It was my youngest brother's first day at school.
He was 7 and i was 11.
Someone stole his pocket money.
Someone pushed him down the stairs.
School ends at 5. I waited till 6.
Under the big Pong Pong tree was no one but me..
My brother walked slowly...his socks had blood.
I asked him Who and he said a boy named Samad.
I brought a baseball bat for PE.
Though Ive always loved soccer.
By the way the baseball bat didnt make its way home.
Coz Samad's head broke it into 2!
In our course of life, there will always be individuals or events that leave behind lasting impressions. When I was a teenager, most of my wasted youth was spent around the Katong district since I attended school around this area.
Majority of the students there were being chauffered to and fro from school in glamorous bright Mercedes' with aging Malay drivers at the pilot seat. And then there are students like me, John, Fendy, Dennis and Afad.
Despite being born into fairly well to do families ourselves, we somehow led frugal lives. We had our after school lunches and mindless conversations over 70 cents a mug coffee at a rundown Kopitiam opposite our school. Though the ceiling fans there was always missing a blade and the lights are out most of the time, the food there was as good as home cooked and the hospitality.....warm.
We started mixing with bad company as we hung out ever more so often at the Kopitiam. On some weekdays, there will always be this group of young men clad in tattoos and colourful hair...complete with ear studs and heavy gold chains hanging on their necks.
It all started when we overheard them rambling on relentlessly over a recent triumphant gang fight and being teenagers, we were very much motivated by such appalling tales. As they drank their Tiger and inhaled their foul smelling Marlboros, they suddenly became the epitomy of cool to the 5 of us.
We seeked their help in buying our first pack of Marlboros. It was Red, had 10 sticks and costs only a measly S$2.10 back then. The first puff will always be memorable for it brought about turbulent caughing and joyous laughters.
Our new found friends gladly accepted us into their circle and within months, unknowingly, we had already become part of their gang. We preyed on feeble rich kids in school to give up their costly possessions. Majority gave in to us far too easily and our notoriety expanded fast. Soon, we got involved in one too many fights with students from other schools but we've always ended up victorious for our mentors taught us well.
Our grades slipped and so did our passion for school. We started drinking at 15 and being the meek one amongst the 5, Dennis decided to sober up and start studying again. We respected him for that but we continued with our dark habits.
After alcohol became a part of our lives, drugs and tea dances followed suit and by 16, we were as good as drop outs. As the O levels was just a couple of months away, John and Fendy realised the disaster awaiting them and so decided to accompany Dennis on the sidelines...leaving behind just me and Afad to battle the front.
Somehow the 2 of us never felt at loss for we made so many similar friends over the past 2 years. To show our devotion to our endearing friendship, me and Afad decided to make a tattoo. Our first tattoo. We swore that through thick and thin, we will be there for each other.
Afad, being the more loud and violent one, is an excellent fighter with a boxer's built. I have never seen him on his knees before in all our misadventures. I, on the other hand is more reserved and the thinker among the both of us. My strength lies in motivating and ordering those around me. Together, we made quite a name of ourselves and the underworld became a part of our life.
By 18, only God knows how many hearts we broke and how many girls we stained. We were having the time of our lives. We were having it better than Hollywood celebrities. We were having fun, even when the sun refused to shine.
As beautiful as all these sound...my life took a U-turn when my parents passed away in a traffic accident. Attending the funeral instilled in me a sense of remorse and regret. Other family members shunned me from my own parents' funeral. I was lost and even my tattoos looked back at me in anger. In that instance of hate and anguish, I picked up a razor and began scrapping the tattoos on my forearm. It bled but I didn't feel it.
I wanted out from everything. Out of the triad life. I paid the price. Having Afad as my 'brother' didn't help for rules ARE rules. No one crosses the line. Afad was sad..not because of my domestic problems...but because our quest for greater things has reached an abrupt end.
I did not see Afad anymore since the day I quit the gang. I went back to school, gone through NS, went back to school again, got a good job...worked hard...fell in love with the lady of my dreams and I ended up marrying her. The last I heard about Afad..he is the Numero Uno in Katong. He is still the hard man from yesteryears. Apparantly now, almost every thug around the Katong districts claims to be under Afad's wing but none of them knew how he looked like or what kind of person he is. Most of them have never even seen him.
I put my past behind me for good once I learnt that my wife is expecting. All I'm looking forward to is providing the best possible for my family. The happiest day of my life came when my wife gave birth to a healthy baby boy on a Sunday morning. Families and friends came to congratulate us and by evening the hospital was just as how it was meant to be...quiet and cold.
By 8pm, the nurse brought my son into the nursery and suggested that I go home and let my wife rest. After kissing my wife good bye, I walk toward the nursery to look at my son. As I peered onto the glass window, I smiled to myself as I saw my son sleeping peacefully.. uncorrupted by the politics of this world. As I turned to make my way to the lifts...I saw it.
There was a man standing at the other end of the nursery peering through the glass window. There was an unmistakable tattoo on his right forearm. I would have recognized it even in the dark. The symbol of my youth was staring straight at me in the face once again.
I embraced myself as I walked up to the stranger. I tapped his shoulder which gave him a shock and he looked at me with the same piercing eyes only thing it was teary. Afad wiped his tears quickly in an effort to conceal it from me.
We asked each other questions that people would normally ask when they have not met for so long. I learnt that night that Afad's baby is a month premature but nevertheless is in healthy conditions. As we peered through the window again, Afad pointed out his son to me. The baby is so tiny compared to the rest. The nurse turned his baby to the side and gave it an injection. Amazing thing is..the baby didn't even cry.
"Looking at yourself huh Afad. Just like the bad ass that you are", I chuckled to Afad. Again there was tears in Afad's eyes. "Why are you crying man?" I questioned. "Nothing. Its just that the nurse is so rough! Look at him...so small and weak and helpess..they should be more gentle you know...", Afad complained.
That night we had dinner together me and him. Just like old times. At the same Kopitiam we used to frequent which was just a walking distance from the hospital. Afad talked to me about changing for the better. He said it was better late than never. He didn't want to raise a child this way. He wanted to be a good man. Like John, Dennis, Fendy and me.
I just kept quiet. I was deep in thought. Throughout my growing up years, I have not seen Afad whince let alone cry. No one is rock solid. Even the hardest men cry.
