The City God of Taipei, whose temple I chanced upon on a meandering, mid-morning walkabout of Old Taipei, is a flamboyant character, with bejewelled crown, flowing beard and all. And flocks of his devotees&mdashmiddle-class professionals coping with the rigours of life in the Big City&mdashcome every day to propitiate him with offerings of incense and deep bows. They also come to ask him existential questions on aspects of their life, his oracular answers to which are channelled through a pair of crescent-shaped cowrie shells that his petitioners cast with a flourish in front of him.







