The Perfect Night

"Should I get the one in Red or Black?", Ishah asked me for the umpteenth time we were in the shoe shop. In my mind, I was racing to get out of that shop. It was torturous, to have to accompany her to the shoe shop at least once every fortnightly to temporarily quench her 'beyond control' shoe fetish.

Like a helpless fool, I only knew too well that it would have been fruitless to persuade her to walk out of the shop empty handed. Half-heartedly, I muttered, "Black lah Black lah. It goes well with the new top", I tried to sound helpful, praying that it would hasten the decision making process. "But the red one is nice too!", she exclaimed. Here we go again, as I prepared myself to warm the stool for another half an hour.

"You angry with me ah?", Ishah snuggled up to me as she playfully boxed my chest repeatedly. "Ok lah ok lah, now we can go and look for your shirt k?", she tried to comfort me. I glanced at my watch, cursing under my breath that I'm left with just under 20 minutes before the mall closes and I have yet to get a white shirt for my annual company Dinner & Dance the following day.

My attempts to scour for the perfect white shirt was a total nightmare. I only managed to look through two boutiques before the store assistants began to hint at me that they would have to call it a day soon. Reluctantly, I was plagued with the decision to either purchase a shirt which cutting I did not fancy, or to wear my old shirt. I opted for the latter.

Bursting with anger I quickened my pace as Ishah struggled to keep abreast with me. Her shopping bags were holding her back but she knew me too well to even whisper for assistance. We didn't speak a word on the way home. It wasn't new to us this painted scenario. Somehow or rather, I tend to simmer down after an hour or so. But not today.

As we were walking toward Ishah's house, I broke the most uncomfortable of silence yet in our two year relationship. "You better not wear that new pair of shoes for the dinner tomorrow", I warned her sternly. "But why?", she pleaded in her catlike mews. "Well you know too well how popular you and your blister prone feet are with new pairs of shoes! I got no time to entertain your nonsense tomorrow Ishah". She hung her heavy head low, and we parted ways for the night without the usual peck on the cheek.

Invigorated by a much needed ten hour sleep, the first thing I thought about when I woke up to the morning sun was Ishah. I knew she was going to mesmerize me with her dazzling sequined dress and infectious smile. I smiled to myself, as I pictured entering the ballroom with our hands entwined, feeling like the luckiest man in the world.

Ishah didn't dissapoint me that night. The blooming orchids paled and bowed down to her as she stood there glittering in the shadows. She glistened in the dark as the moonlight reflected itself into a million angles off her sequined dress. Her Tiffany necklace accesorised her bare neck. A gift I got her for our first year anniversary. But most heart warming of all was that she wore her hair into a bun knowing that it would give her a huge headache by the end of the night. But Ishah knew that I loved it when she do up her hair that way.

As I got closer, I cant't help noticing the new pair of shoes she had on, but I decided to not utter a word and ruin this perfect evening. I was almost too afraid to even touch her, for fear that her delicate beauty would be brutally tampered with before we even reached the hotel.

I held her hands under the evening sky for a brief few seconds, distracted. I didn't mind just standing there, allowing her to overpower me while time stood still. "Well Shall we go my dear?", she broke the silence and brought me back to my senses. "Can we not go?", I asked cheekily as we walked toward the idling car.

I was blessed that night as Ishah blended well with my colleagues and superiors.They took an instant liking toward her. She knew when to crack a joke and when to say the right words. Her poise and finesse surprised even myself for I never saw this side of her before. For a mildly shy girl, I was taken aback when she readily agreed to take part in the activities lined up for the night.

I noticed Ishah beginning to move rather uneasily as the night wore on. The curse of the new shoes! As I walked with her toward the dance floor, she tried her best not to limp. She caught me gazing at her swollen heel but she didn't mutter a word. Just the sweetest wry smile for a response.

We danced, we talked, we teased and we acted as though we have not seen each other for ages. The silence was comfortable this time round as our bodies sashayed along with the rhythm of the slow number filling the ballroom air, marking the end of a wonderful evening.

As I brought my car up close to the pavement, my heart seemed heavy with lead, as i woke Ishah up from her sleep, knowing that the night was about to end. I could tell that her head was about to burst as she immediately let loose her hair before I could even walk to the other side to open her car door.

Ishah still managed to radiate a warm smile as she held my hands and got out of the car. Her right heel was bleeding by now from the squirm on her face but yet again she put on a brave front and tried to hide it from me.

I lowered myself and motioned for her to wrap her arms around my neck so that I could piggyback her and save her from further torment. She obliged willingly at my sudden display of affection. It isn't me to pamper her this way but somehow, I could not explain my actions that night.

We didn't talk as I struggled along the long pathway. The crickets provided some background orchestra while I felt her heavy breaths upon my neck. From the corner of my eye, I noticed her eyes were closed but she had on the most satisfying of smiles. I huffed and I puffed as I manoevered up the flights of steps till I reached the fourth storey and right up till her doorstep.

"We're home", I said while she gently got off from my aching back. "Thank You", she said with her eyes half closed as she massaged my spine for a brief few seconds. I kissed her on her forehead and wished her good night and disappeared down the flight of steps as soon as the door closed on me.

The events of the night flashed back into my mind as I walked past the exact spot where she stood and waited for me earlier on. It was then that I received a long text message on my mobile. It was from Ishah. It read:

"I had such a good time tonight and I'm sorry that I wore my new pair of shoes. It was just that it looked perfect with my dress. Sorry that you had to carry me back up all the way to the fourth storey k? By the way, that was the best part of the night for me. Love you deep deep! Nite."

My heart felt heavy again but only because it was full of love for Ishah. I didn't tell her this, but that was the best part of the night for me too.

One Key Fits All

This story is inspired by the homecoming of a long lost friend.


In the rush hour of one Grand Central Subway Station in New York City, Valerie swiftly swiveled her head the other direction as the rapturous gust of wind created a riot within her soft brown hair. By and large, as much as she hated that, it never failed to remind her of her growing up days in Singapore. Squeezing her petite body through the tiniest of gaps just before the MRT door beeped and close so that she won't be late for her lectures in the polytechnic.

It had been a good 15 years now since she had not returned to the sunny island. Frequent phone calls home grew few and far between as she refused to swallow her pride and reconcile ties with her parents. She knew that they had a point for refusing their young girl venturing out into the vast corporate world 10000 miles across the planet. With no family, friends, and warm fish porridge to sooth her soul at the end of every hectic New York work day, Valerie finally realised how important a support system a family and home mean.

Her walk up apartment, albeit being smack down in the middle of the big apple, cosy and comfortable in every sense of the word with a Siamese cat for company, somehow lacked the warmth of her HDB flat. Valerie tried hard to brush such thoughts from her mind, but gazing upon the Chinese family sitting opposite her in the Subway train, it somehow made her miss home even more.

Valerie had given this issue much thought and finally, after all these years of sculpting her own success in a foreign land with nothing but grit and strength, she packed her suitcase and purchased a one-way ticket for Singapore.

No one knew of her abrupt decision. Not even her dear sister, who was the only form of contact she has had all these years via the convenience of email and MSN that made her feel ever so close, yet never close to home.

Valerie struggled with her luggage with excitement and fear all rolled into one as she brisked quickly toward the taxi stand. It was quite a feeling to see so many Singlish speaking folks in one place. Barely 5 minutes in Singapore, and the euphoria of the Lahs and Lehs in the background made her smile warmly.

The kind old taxi uncle assisted her with the luggage before asking her in classic Singlish, "Go where?". Valerie smiled before replying, "Uncle, Ang Mo Kio Avenue 10 please! Hurry Up. I'm late!"

Valerie was shocked and impressed by some of the changes she had missed in the course of time she was away. Blocks of flats were now painted an array of vibrant colours. Commercial buildings that used to lack character now breathed a new life of its own. For the first time in her life, Valerie felt what it was like to be alone and foreign in her own country!

As the taxi sped closer and closer to her destination, Valerie felt all warm and fuzzy on the inside, like that on a first date with someone special. She was glad however that there were indeed some things that hasn't changed. She noticed the bamboo poles sticking out like ugly extensions from the kitchen side of the HDB flats. Only this time, they seemed much....homely after all.

Valerie noticed that the Chinese Medicine halls and Mama shops still existed in those void deck retail space. At the end of her block, she noticed that the coffeeshop where as a young girl, she would run her father an errand to buy a pack of cigarettes still stood majestically in its old glory with bright orange letterings that read 'Ah June Coffee Shop'.

Valerie hurried toward one of those Mama shops like an eager child with her luggage dragging behind her. "Uncle, can I have one Grape Yakult please?", Valerie requested in her 'Ang Moh' accent. "This one 80 cents", the fifty something year old Indian man replied, rather flustered with the fact that this lady had disrupted him reading his newspaper. "What!? 80 cents!? It used to cost only 50 cents back then", Vivien retorted.

The Indian uncle looked bewildered and scratched his head. "Erm, where you from girl?", he asked. "I'm from Ang Mo Kio!", Valerie replied in an excited tone. "Thank You uncle! See you again!", Valerie bid her farewell and left before the Indian shopkeeper could fathom what had happened within the last 2 minutes.

Thank god for the HDB upgrades, they now had lifts servicing every floor which saved Valerie the struggle of lugging her bags up a couple flights of steps to the 12th floor. Valerie seemed confused at first for she remembered she had to get off at the 10th floor before running up the flight of steps to her house but she suddenly remembered her sister mentioning about the upgrades in the neighbourhood.

As she walked closer to her flat, all the sweet memories of home rushed into her head. She remembered playing hopscotch and catching with her neighbours along the corridors, as well throwing her sweet wrappers off the 12th storey ledge just to see it dancing in the wind before hitting the ground. Such fond sweet memories Valerie thought.

Her heart beat faster and stronger as she stood facing her house. Everything seemed the same since the day she left. It was as though these 15 years didn't even occur and was just one long dream. Valerie rummaged her handbag for her old set of keys which she kept all these years, waiting for a a day like today.

Slowly, she inserted the brass key into the keyhole, half wondering if the family had changed its locks or something during her time away. The door catch clicked loose with one swift turn of the key. It was such a great feeling, after all those torrid years of silence with her parents, to know that they refused to change those creaking old doors, just in case, their dear daughter would come back one fine day.

Two Cups of Coffee

This story is dedicated to everyone in my life that's either always busy or lying to be busy just so that they can spend their entire day lazing at home.


When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day is not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and Two Cups of Coffee.


A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him.
When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls.

He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls.

He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.


The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous "yes."

The professor then produced Two Cups of Coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand.

The students laughed.

"Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.

The golf balls are the important things -- God, Family, Children, Health, Friends,and favorite passions -- things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter -- like your job, house, and car. The sand is everything else . . . the small stuff."

"If you put the sand into the jar first" . . he continued . . "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you."

"So... Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another game of golf (I, the writer prefers Football but a football is larger than life and can't fit into a god damn mayonaise jar!). There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first . . the things that really matter. Set your priorities . . . the rest is just sand."

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked . . it just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend."

Upon Which The Eye Should Be Closed

It should be closed to looking at fine countenances lustfully. But if someone with a pure heart does so, admiring them as wonders of God’s creation, it is not wrong.


If you should gaze in purity upon a rosy cheek,
It is not prohibited to gaze upon the rose and the tulip;
But if the eye gazing upon it is not pure,
The kohl around such an eye is naught but dust

- Annonymous