I was in a car, headed east down Jalan Gatot Subroto Barat in Denpasar when I came across a statue of a war hero in the middle of a roundabout, standing proudly on a pedestal inscribed: merdeka atau mati. From there, three kilometres to the south is a pleasant grassy field known as Lapangan Puputan Badung, pleasantly surrounded by tree-lined streets. Here once stood the palace of Denpasar where on one day in September 1906, a showdown happened between the Balinese and an assembled force of Dutch invaders hellbent on colonising the island. Sensing their impending doom at the hands of the invaders, the members of the royal court had previously donned white garb and assembled within the palace walls to have the high priest read them their funerary rites, turning them dead in the eye of the gods. What comes next is just the formalities of physical death as they marched out the palace gate in a procession towards the enemy. Stepping down from his palanquin, the king bared his chest to the high priest who took a kris and drove it into the chest of his monarch, before turning the weapon onto himself himself as the rest of the court began to do the same in an act called ‘puputan’. Men and women killed their young children and their elders before killing each other, a bloody massacre in full view of a stunned European army. Merdeka atau mati. Forty years later, another son on Bali, I Gusti Ngurah Rai while leading the defence of his island against the same enemy invoked the spirit of puputan as they were all wiped out in an aerial bombing by the Dutch. In remembrance of his valour, and his death raining from above, his nation named the airport after him so that every soul entering Bali henceforth would still have to go through their hero. Poetic. Denpasar from Kuala Lumpur is roughly as far away as Paris is to Athens, yet for most of the part, I felt pretty much at home despite the red terracotta roofs and the dark volcanic stone structures scatter all over this island. The food is familiar, the faces are familiar, and the language, the pleasure of being able to speak and be understood this far east from home was very comforting. Being the contrarian that I am, I’ve long avoided coming to Bali because it’s a place that everybody goes to. I am also not a big fan of seaside vacations and lounging by the beach getting drunk and partying, which prior to my landing at Ngurah Rai International, was the kind of vibe I was getting from hearing about Bali. It wasn’t until Eat, Pray, Love that it sparked a little interest in me to take another look at this island, and no, I don’t feel any shame in admitting that. I consider myself a man of science and despite the infinite mysteries of the universe, I can’t shake off the urge to ponder at questions of spiritualism, God, and things unquantifiable. I was in a tough spot in life in the latter half of my twenties my a friend told me that I should at least go see Bali before I contemplate killing myself, in a dark humour sort of way. He was very sure that I would love the place and the people there so I said sure, why not, I’ll keep an open mind about it. It took me a few more years of big mistakes and heartbreaking pains before I ended up setting foot on the island.