Perfect Strangers (Part 2)

And so the sheer devilry of that one night at the Gallery Hotel mutilated into countless more charmed encounters. There was never a doubt that Mathilda is fond of the charismatic Marvin but her bruised ego kept her mum from making the right declarations. She was very much afraid that her confessions might lead to nothingness.

Marvin on the other hand remained as nonchalant like a circus performer. There was no denying that he is enjoying the ride. It is obvious. The male species never loses out in such sticky circumstances.

Marvin was lying down dead to the world one cold Sunday morning when the telephone rang. "I'm pregnant..", said a familiar voice. Marvin paused for a good 5 seconds before putting down the phone...without muttering a response.

The phone rang once again. "Hello?...Did you hear me? I'm pregnant", this time her voice almost seemed like it was begging on its knees. Again Marvin put off her pleas and placed the receiver in its birth. Marvin's cowardice surfaced as he realised the contorted predicament he was in. The telephone rang again but Marvin just squirmed and covered his ears with his pillow.


Mathilda on the other hand was getting desperate. She felt as if she was forced into such a situation. She felt as if she was guided into the dark depths of a room with warm hands...and the instant the lights came on...all the warmth disappears...only emptiness lingers.

Reluctantly, Mathilda spoke into Marvin's voice recorder..knowing full well that Marvin will somehow hear her. Mathilda dragged her words. She fumbled whilst speaking and sobbing simultaneously. Mathilda lamented that she was disappointed that Marvin reacted in such a manner without shouldering the tiniest speck of responsibility.

"By the way Marvin, I've decided to keep the baby", the message ended without a good bye.

Marvin laid frozen. As much as Marvin wanted to run away from the mishap, he can't seem to get the fact out of his head that he had to face this somehow. Not ready to marry, what more raising a child? Marvin on the other hand decided that the best way out was to visit the abortion clinic.

After much coaxing, Mathilda agreed with Marvin's decision...but only by a hair's breadth. Mathilda was so confused at the same time afraid to face her parents should they know about this.

Marvin picked Mathilda up from her place, without uttering a word till they reached the clinic. It was funny how the building looked like an abbatoir that Sunday morning. To cement this fact, it started to drizzle, as though the heavens just wanted to cry for the unborn child.

Marvin waited restlessly while Mathilda was taken beyond his sight. The cold stares received from the few nurses was cutting him up to pieces. The info-graphics on the walls showcasing topics on abortion and responsibility simply seems to open its jaws wide and try to swallow him alive.

And for that moment, Marvin wondered if he had made the right decision. Preventing an innocent life from learning to walk, cringing its face when tasting its first ice-cream, or uttering its first word whatever it may be.

It was too late for Marvin. Perhaps he should have given much thought before indulging in such a lifestyle. Marvin started to crack his knuckles and hit the back of his head against the wall. Marvin closed his eyes tightly and squeezed his fingers hard.

As the anaesthetic began to take effect, Mathilda tried to find the strength to call the abortion off. She did not want to commit the biggest sin in her life. She knew she could never forgive herself if she went ahead with it. But it was too little too late.

After a while, Mathilda came out, looking like a sad love song. Mathilda walked painfully toward Marvin...and then bypassed him without stealing a glance. "Mathilda?", Marvin called. Mathilda kept on pressing toward the exit despite the insatiable pain she felt. "Mathilda...What's wrong? How are you feeling?," Marvin asked once more. "Empty. I feel empty, Marvin. Empty", came the reply.

If

If I Am A Rifle,
Will You Be My Rounds?
To Guide Me When I Stifle,
To Silence The Hungry Hounds.

If I Am An Elm,
Will You Be My Roots?
To Anchor Me During Winter's Helm,
Within The Barren Woods.

If I Am A Bard,
Will You Be My Poem?
To Shed Some Light When Times Are Hard,
And Help Me Stray From Vallium.

Perfect Strangers (Part 1)

Ever so often does it occur that when lonely hearts collide,
a catastrophe of error emerges after an intense embrace.
It is the grand opening of the Ministry Of Sound
in Singapore and all who wants to be seen will be there.
Socialites, Celebrities,Paparazi, Art students, computer
nerds, music lovers, drug junkies, the odd office boy,sluts,
the occasional gayboy and then you have people like Mathilda
and Marvin.


It wasn’t written in the stars for their paths to cross.
They are supposed to remain anonymous in idle synchrosity.
With his chiseled facial structure and gawking features,
Marvin is the epitome of the perfect male. Mathilda…she
is simply as breathtaking as the view atop the Eiffel.
In the eyes of the world, this two shall be its perfect
strangers.


After braving a queue that must have been visible from
the moon, at long last Marvin managed to breathe the
sweetsmell of sweat pulsating from Singapore’s latest club.
The thumping beats were roaring and so was the crowd.
It seemed as though there wasn’t a place for him inside
less a nook or cranny here and there but somehow Marvin
managed to soak himself into the atmosphere.


Marvin was really getting parallel with the groove that
the DJ is spinning and unconsciously, he fell into a
trance as he danced himself away into a drunken mess.
Oblivious of the world revolving around him, somewhere
in the next dance hall, Mathilda is hypnotizing the hundreds
of guys with erotic and sultry moves that would make an
exotic dancer hide inside the cloak of envy.


They stood in awe and amazement as she gyrated her hips
to the languid music booming from the speakers. Streaks
of her hair covering her face makes her look all the more
appetizing. Like a chocolate buffet, everyone wanted more
of her but she remained leery of these wandering beasts
known as Men.One by one they tried to ride on their luck
and make an introduction but Mathilda brushed them aside
like falling autumn leaves. It took them quite awhile to
come out of their reverie and thus they were forced to
look elsewhere to sustain whatever sumptuous cravings
besieged them.


After hours of constant pounding on the dancefloor,
Marvin wanted to breathe new air and so he lugged
his way into the next hall, cigarette in one hand
and a San Miguel in another. The next dancehall is
similarly filled with squirming masses of people
having the time of their lives. Marvin found an empty
stool by the bar and proceeded on downing his 7th San
Miguel for the night. The vulgar display of tossing and
catching of bottles intrigued Marvin for a bit. He
really appreciated the flair of these bartenders.
Their wild antics never fail to splurge a little colour.


Marvin could already feel it. The perfect high was
slowly percolating into his brain. He felt almost
complete yet it still remained a distant 2nd compared
to an orgasm. In a somber daze, he swiveled his chair
round and his eyes got caught in an intricate apparition
of the dancing queen. Marvin is diagnosed with loneliness
and Mathilda is his prescription.


After a few minutes of gasping at Mathilda, Marvin’s
vision is now stifled with conjuring images of Mathilda’s
figure. He could hear the dulcet tones of her fragile heart
amidst the loud thumping background. He dried his bottle
with his last sip and began his lonely walk toward the healing.

Somehow he managed to slither in between the throng of
people and he wrapped his arms around Mathilda’s svelte
waist. He buried his face on her neck and she moaned in
agony. Mathilda looks like a goddess but she smelt sinful.


Mathilda stared at Marvin with approving eyes and pressed
her pelvic region firmly against his. She surrendered to
him. The crowd around muttered silently as the knight won
his fair princess effortlessly. It felt lousy settling
for second prize but there is only room for one.


Neither could take their eyes of each other as they
allowed their mechanical hands to roam freely.
Inevitably Marvin brought Mathilda back to the
Gallery Hotel where they consummate their chanced
meeting in an artistic love nest.

To be continued...

The Class Of '98

The setting was surreal. I am sitting at my usual desk right behind of the class. I had the pleasure of feeling the passing winds in my hair, observing the cars that zoom up and down the narrow street outside my school, and I even had the best view of the city.

It was inevitable that 16 year old me didn't pay much attention to my Math teacher for it was the last day of school. I was already welcoming the June holidays before it began. I was worrying about the subtle things that awaited me such as the fishing trips and the night outs and the beach. Though I was sitting right behind looking at my teacher profusely writing on the blackboard...in my mind, I was supinely thinking of the month of June.

Before my math teacher ended the class, she constantly reminded us of the tonne of homework we had to do for the holidays. Formality sake, I did however jotted it down at the back of my book. And it was to stay there unscathed....throughout the month of June for in my mind, I was going to copy my homework on the first morning when school commences again.

And so the holidays came and went in a jiffy and for once, I was the first to reach school that morning. I placed my school bag on my desk and proceeded to have breakfast at a coffeeshop nearby.

My friends and I decided to skip assembly that morning. Something we did at random days most of the time. We sneaked through the back gate and up the stairs and went on to our respective classes.

My class was as empty as when I first came in that morning. "Where are all my classmates?", I asked myself. Then I remembered that we had classes at another venue for Monday. I grabbed my bag and tried to rush to my class in a futile manner.

When I arrived, I could have merged with the rest of the class for they were still scampering around in a holiday daze, trying to find a seat. The righteous me however made a bee line for the teacher to confess my late coming.

My teacher must have read my mind or somehow had enough psychic powers to deduce what I was going to confess for she glared at me with her huge eyes as though they were like saucers. I would be lying if I said I wasn't disturbed.

"I'm sorry Mrs Foo, but I am late this morning", I managed to squeeze out that line while looking at the floor. I could still feel the heat of her huge saucer-like eyes on me. "Why are you late huh? First day of school also late!", she silenced me off. It was then also that I realised that I hadn't touched the homework she had given us earlier. I was doomed and I just prayed that she didn't ask to see my exercise book.

At that precise moment, I opened my eyes to the darkness of my room. My head still on my soft lush pillows but I was asking myself whether or not I had done my homework. What time is it? Was I late for school? The vision of an appalling Mrs Foo with arms akimbo was still in my head. I was trapped between reality and dream.

The time showed 6.58am. If I was still in school, I would be so very late. But thank god I wasn't. Thank god all these was just a dream. As I lay in bed tossing and turning, I managed to smile. Smile to the fact that although I was a lazy, disobedient, and mischievous student...I still have the fear for Mrs Foo. I, the writer.....am 24 years old now.

Mrs Foo was a teacher that invented grit through her sheer abilities. I didn't realise it back then but in one way or another, she has contributed to the shaping of our lives. She thought us about punctuality, righteousness and other virtues of that moulds a successful individual.

To Mrs Foo who if in any case happens to chance upon this page (but I know she wouldn't for she's probably busy marking Math homework of those brats), I wanna shout out a huge 'Thank You' for you deserved it. Though it's a long time coming..nevertheless you still deserved it.

To my class & the batch of '98......Those were the best days of my life.

For now, I wish you guys all the best in your future endeavours and I shall sign off as

Yours Always,
The Boy Who Sits Right Behind In Class

A Father's Tale

MWO Phillip Oh
1948 - 2006

Master Warrant Officer(MWO) Phillip's war decorations painted one side of his office wall a riot of colours. On the opposite wall hung his family portrait. MWO Phillip in his ceremonial attire, his wife in a pretty red cheongsam and his only son Dominic.

Though he often barks like a bull dog and terrorizes the soldiers under him, you can never miss his forlorn look whenever he is alone. Like as if he is deep in thought. The way he smoked his cigarette...the way he stares into the open sky...and the way he blinks his eyes. Something bothered him but like a statue of a war hero, his thoughts remained embedded in stone.

His much anticipated retirement commenced as soon as my batch of soldiers completed our national service and with the test of time, images and memories of MWO Phillip banished itself from our minds.

Some of my camp mates became lawyers, doctors and salesmen. Some went back to becoming secret society members. Others got married but nevertheless whenever we happen to chance upon one another, we still laughed and discussed about the days when MWO Phillip striked fear into all of us.

I took over my father's business and my marriage bore me a son and everyday was a dream. I was rushing home one Friday evening for I missed my son a little bit more than usual. My wife did not cook that day and so I sighed when she called to say I had to buy dinner from the coffee shop nearby.

After getting dinner, I was scurrying out of the coffee shop when an all too familiar voice filled the space around my ears. "Private Han! Where are you darting off to. Only 6 o clock man. Come here and sit down drink one 'kopi' with me la", the unmistakable commanding voice of MWO Phillip barked in a somewhat friendly tone this time.

"Sir...Waa you still remember my name hah?," I tried to reply in a coyish manner. Somehow I obliged to his wishes like the old days and I summarised to MWO Phillip the details of my life since I left the army.

"Well son..you better take care of your family while you still have them", MWO relayed to me in between puffs. "Unlike you, my wife stopped cooking for me 25 years ago. She ran away with my gangster friend when my son was 5. I take it as retribution. You know when I was younger, I messed up many people's life. Being in the secret society was my way of life. I even took people's lives in fights before. Till today, I still thank god that I'm still alive. Do you know how it feels like to sleep with a parang by your bedside? Everyday I close my eyes could have been my last", MWO Phillip shaked his head and blinked his eye slowly.

"Well at least the army gave me an opportunity. An opportunity to send my son to school and some simple luxuries like toys and football boots," MWO Phillip tried hard to fake a smile. "My son...a very smart boy. Ten years ago, I sent him overseas for further studies. All my savings was spent for his University fees, hoping that one day, I would get to see the returns of my investment. But my son, he fell in love with an 'ang moh' and his university thought him how to slang. Ka ni na!! He adopted the western way of life and is now too shy to return home to his father. He is scared his 'ang moh' wife would laugh at me," MWO Phillip cackled like an evil man.

"He should have been back by now. Never write me a letter. Never call. No address for me to visit. What am I supposed to do? I thought I would live to see the day that he gets married. Be among grandchildren. But now..I'll never know. Life works in mysterious ways huh Pvt Han?" MWO Phillip asked me a question I can't answer.

"Secretly I'm still praying for the day that my son will walk into my house. I want to see how he's aged..whether or not he still looks the same. Will he be eager to see his old room? I never touch a thing you know since the day he left because he never liked anyone to mess his room. He says wait he can't find his things." MWO Phillips paused for a while...deep in thought.

"Im not much of an English educated person. But I know of this nursery rhyme which I always read to my son Dominic. It goes like this,

Two Little Dicky Birds Sitting On A Wall,
One Named Peter, One Named Paul.
Fly Away Peter, Fly Away Paul,
Come Back Peter, Come Back Paul!

I think it is easier to be a son than to be a father sometimes. But somehow I still failed to be a father let alone a dad", MWO Phillip lamented. MWO Phillip's story stripped my mind of other worldly issues and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't affected.

2 years have passed since the day I saw him at the coffee shop. His face appeared in the obituary. Loneliness, Depression and ill health has finally caught up with him. He looked sad in the photo as always. I still wonder if his little dicky bird ever found its way back to its nest. It appears...I shall never know.

The Cheat

Tomorrow is the Secondary 2 History test which constitutes 30% of the total semester grade. What a chore the students thought for they have Chapter 1- 3 to study...or more appropriately MEMORIZE. What a terrorizing word that is. Teachers always say, "You know what class..why don't you guys burn the pages of your text and drink it with water. Then perhaps you don't have to study." Do you think thats a funny joke? Personally I can't laugh to that. Such teachers should just go fuck a spider.

I reached home early that day and chucked my bag into the corner where it always belongs. I forced myself to open my History text. The pages seemed like an endless ancient scroll. What has these contents got to do with my career in the future I wonder. I scurried through the pages and sighed as I rested against my study chair.

The sound of the Playstation 2 being played by my brothers somehow seeped its way through my room door...beckoning onto me. The calling was too powerful and I gave in. An hour of bliss on the PS2 soon became 2 and 3 and without realizing, the sun had set without prior warning.

I lugged into my room again cursing at my text. It is comedy night today on TV and I've never missed it. "Everybody Loves Raymond" followed by "My Wife & Kids" , "Still Standing", "King of Queens", "Frasier".

Of course, I opted for the telly and still my History text remained untouched like a forgotten relic. After the last show ended, it was bedtime and my eyes were just too tired to battle on. And it was then that I had the most brilliant idea. I was going to attempt to cheat on the test.

And so armed with my foolscape and pen, I forged out my best handwriting. Small and nimble they were such that Tom Thumb would be proud of. Vital pieces of information that spans 3 chapters is now tucked sweetly into bed in just a single piece of paper. Contented with my 'studying' I knocked out with a smile.

On my way to school, I see students with faces buried in their texts. Some were still scrawling on little pieces of info to aid in their studying. I just shook my head and laughed. Before the commencement of the test, they were asking each other, "Eh you got study this or not? Wah Lau! I never study this leh". Then the other retorted, "You die ah! Teacher say this one CONFIRM come out!". Then he starts rummaging through his text again. But of course it is of no use at this point of time. I just tucked my pocket gently to see if my ticket to an A grade is still there.

The invigilator pranced up and down the aisle like a night watchmen as he gave out the test papers faced down. As soon as he gave out mine and his back is facing me, I skillfully took out the paper, unfolded it and placed it in between the test papers in a single motion. The naked eye could never see the foreign object between the test papers. Smart. Brilliance.

And so I did the test referring to my personal little helper whenever I had the opportunity. I was done within an hour and never felt this satisfied before. Of course I got my A grade....and many more A's will be waiting for me unless.....

First Day

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!

U-Turn

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.

Woes Of A Taxi Driver

As Ah Chai cruised on along the Orchard Road stretch, he noticed throngs of poeople. Old and young ones are chattering away about their last minute shopping. It is Christmas Eve and the streets are paved with vibrant colours and dazzling lights.

As he neared the LIDO building, two well dressed young men flagged frantically for a taxi. "Just perfect", Ah Chai thought to himself for he was all too lazy to enter one of those languid taxi queues.

Ah Chai greeted them without faking a smile like some cabbies do. They seemed in a rush and did not return the favour. They just requested to be driven to Zouk the fastest way possible. Ah Chai took them the longer way but the two idiots remained oblivious as they were buried in an intense conversation.

Conversations about whether or not the ratio of chicks to dicks that night is going to work in their favour. Conversations about whether or not they should hook one up early and go for the kill. They even discussed which hotel they were going to should they get lucky.

They seemed confidant of scoring that night. Ah Chai just pondered whether or not his 19 year old daughter is frequenting such places. She seems to dress up raunchily since she entered the polytechnic. Somehow her results always remained above average and so both Ah Chai and his wife just protested in silence.

As Ah Chai brought his taxi to a halt, the two young men in the rear are looking frantically at the people lining up. It seems as though they are scouting for their potential prey. At the same time, one of them digged into his jeans and threw Ah Chai a crumpled 5 dollar note.

In a haste, they just rushed out of the cab without claiming their change. Within seconds, they blended into the crowd and Ah Chai lost sight of them. Majority of the people there are around his daughter's age. There are the occasional older looking ones. Ones that have been left on the shelf for too long. It was understandable that young people frequent such places to enjoy, but if you hit 30 and still do so, you must be a loser.

Ah Chai's thoughts were disrupted when a middle aged ANg MOh man entered his cab. His Asian girl friend followed suit and they requested to be taken to Bayshore Condo. The Ang Moh is balding and has an obvious paunch. His dressing is just as bad and his breath reeked of alcohol.

The Asian girl on the other hand is seemingly young. Probably 25 years his junior. She is very attractive with a good body to boot. But sadly she speaks with a forced slang that eliminates her Asian authenticity. If any of you were to see them, youd'ld be asking the same question that is circling in Ah Chai's head..."What the fuck is she doing with an ugly fuck like him?!"

Ah Chai would rather see this lass with one of the two guys before. But not everyone sees the world through Ah Chai's eyes. Throughout the journey, the tainted couple are literally on top of each other. The only obstruction hindering them was whatever piece of clothing that they had on. As their sweet murmurings increased in volume, so did the sound of Ah Chai's radio.

Yet again Ah Chai's thoughts swayed to his docile 19 year old. While waiting at the traffic light, Ah Chai scrolled for his daughter's number and pressed the dial button. There is no reply. Ah Chai proceeded to dial his home. His wife answered in a draggy tone for she was already half asleep.

"Where is Celine?", Ah Chai asked in his Hokkien dialect. "Out as usual. Christmas Eve ma", his wife replied. "What is she wearing?", Ah Chai probed further. "If you ask me, it looks like nothing. Aiyah..your daughter how old already. Can take care of herself la", his wife retorted back before slamming the phone down on him.

Ah Chai sighed heavily as he raced along the ECP thinking about his daughter which he wished never did grew up. Well like any other youngster her age, Celine is out there having a ball of a time...getting drunk....and wasted...and laid.....only Ah Chai does not know it yet. Like how Sarah Michelle Gellar puts it in 'Cruel Intentions'...."Everyone does it...they just don't talk about it."

Sunny's Little Adventure

The shrill crows of his mother’s rooster awakened Sunny. There it was perched on top of the chicken shelter. Jack the rooster must have thought he was the king of the world.But really, all Jack will ever be was only a domestic pest, waiting to be slaughtered.No matter how early or loud Jack crowed, it was inevitable that he would be made into chicken curry one fine day.

Nevertheless, Sunny got up and put the kettle on. He took out his school uniform and hanged it on his door knob. He took the fresh loaf of bread at his front gate and spread some jam onto it. On normal days, this was his breakfast. On a good day, Sunny's dad would have bought Kellogs cornflakes and some fresh milk. Sunny always look forward to good days though they are few and far between.

Sunny put out the kettle and poured the steaming water into the large tub. The fierce wind that managed to seep its way through the gaps in the wooden walls made Sunny twinge. Sunny stirred the water in the tub and scooped it onto his body to humble out the cold. After the rejuvenating bath, Sunny got ready for school.

Sunny pecked his mother on the cheek while she is still sound asleep and left for school. He took his rusty old bicycle out from the garden shed. And in a flash, Sunny sped down the lane.

Sunny hated school. He hated being within close proximity with rich spoilt individuals. He despised and envied those kids that had fancy school bags, expensive shoes and Casio watches. Most of them were not kind and subtle. They are just minute reflections of their snobbish parents.

Sunny did not have anything worthy to show his classmates. His pencil case is simple plastic one while his classmates has those with extravagant magnetic flaps on either side. They have mechanical pencils in all sorts of colours but Sunny only has the blue standard Steadler 2B pencils. They have boxes and boxes of erasers depicting different country flags. Well, what Sunny has is just one measly white one.

Almost all of them teased Sunny for not having new stuff. But Sunny just kept it all in. When he reaches home to complain to his mother, she would just ask him to be thankful that he actually has those stuff. In comparison, there are other kids who are not even given the opportunity to attend school let alone own pieces of stationery.

Sunny walked out of his house in disgust but he made sure his mother did not notice his black face. Secretly though, she knew Sunny was rather feeling down. It was tough being socially estranged at a young age, But it is a cruel world out there and Sunny need to learn the ropes of life.

Sunny went out to the big drain to play with his friends. And soon he forgot about the minions in school. While walking back home, Sunny found a $1 bill and dashed to pick it up. He looked around frantically to see if anyone had dropped it. The area surrounding him was soulless. The money belongs to him!

Sunny raced his bicycle to the ‘Mama Shop’ nearby and his mouth watered as he gazed upon the decks of candies and chocolates. He walked toward the back of the shop to see what else he could buy. Then his eyes fell on a box of 36-coloured pencils. He only had the normal 12-coloured ones and how he longed for this. His classmates of course have the ones in 48 or even 64 colours! But to Sunny…24 would have been more than sufficient.

Sunny turned the box over. $10.90. Just as expected. Sunny can only dream for that kind of money. Oh well he thought. Like a cheeky little wanker, Sunny slid the box into his waist pouch. He went back out to the front and proceeded to purchase some candy.

Sunny’s little heart was beating frantically like the thump of a drum as he raced back toward his house. He kept looking back to see if the shop owner had actually found out. But the old man was busy reading his newspapers.

Sunny could not wait to use his new coloured pencils that night for his Art homework. While his parents are busy doing some chores, Sunny grabbed his Art materials and went to the front portion of the house where the light emitted from the street lamps somehow manages to find its way in just enough for Sunny to do his work.

Sunny stared at the box of un-opened coloured pencils and traces of his bad deeds flashed across his mind. Suddenly, Sunny felt as guilty as a serial rapist. He contemplated tearing up the wrapping, as he knew that his parents did not raise him to be a thief. They want him to work hard so that he can see the fruits of his labour. Stealing was a shortcut. Such behaviour does not command respect and would make him worse than any of the people in school. Sunny was not going to shame his family name and so there and then he decided to return the coloured pencils.

The next day after school, Sunny parked his bicycle outside the shop and sheepishly walked toward the shop owner. He placed the box on the counter and explained everything in one breath. Sunny dared not look up. He waited for the owner to land a barrage of vulgarities or perhaps a fist on the face. But nothing came.

The shop owner came out from behind the counter and stood beside Sunny. He was a father himself and he admired Sunny’s courage. He knew what kind of family Sunny comes from. A poor family definitely. But they are good people. Hardworking and kind. They have no enemies, as they bothered no one.

The shop owner then shoved the box back into Sunny’s hands. “Nah…You can have it.,” he exclaimed. “No No Uncle. My father will scold me later. I can’t take it uncle," Sunny replied like a meek mouse. “No. You tell your father that I am giving it to you. As a present. Now go”, the shop owner shooed Sunny away in a joking manner.

Sunny is so delighted with the events that happened that day that he gleamed all the way from the shop to his home. Not because he finally got something he wanted…but because he has learnt a very valuable lesson. A lesson that one would probably not learn in school. It was life’s little way of saying thank you.

So it doesn't really matter if at the end of the day we are not rewarded or our deeds does not get noticed. It is not wrong to dream big. Dreams do come true if only we dare to believe. Like Jack the Rooster, when you crow....you crow the loudest so that the whole world can hear your name. And should we get cooked one fine day, at least we know we have tried our best.

An Unexpected Tear

"RRRRRriiinnnnnGGGG!!!!!!!", goes the shiny silver alarm clock. It definitely was the biggest nuisance one cannot do without. The moment Benny hit the 'Snooze', serenity was restored as he submerged back to deep slumber. My My...that extra 5 mins..how much we all treasure it.

After a few more 'Snooze' buttons and "5 extra minutes", Benny finally woke up. So Benny once again has to compromise his bathing routine and shave in double quick time but nevertheless, he still looked exquisite in his sharp Italian suit and his well- combed hair.

Benny managed to make it in time and it didn't take long for him to immerse himself into the sordid world of work. Benny is the new head of an advertising agency.

After 5 long years of learning from the best, Benny is ready. Motivated, driven, inspired and robust...there was no stopping Benny from his insatiable desire to succeed. Benny brought a new dimension to his line of work. Despite inheriting the suitable traits of his predecessor, Benny's ever increasing hunger for contentment made him vile.

No one dared oppose him. Like an evil ruler in medieval times, Benny striked fear in his employees. That made them slog even harder... sometimes even beyond the beastly hours of the night. Within 5 years, Benny's advertising agency won top honours. Benny's thank you speech was endless for he gave credit where it is due and thanked all in the firm whom have made it possible.

The speech did not alter the employees' views about their young boss as things went back to normal. No bonus. No holidays. No token. Just a simple thank you speech. Soon everyone had forgotten about it as bigger and more important projects come knocking through the agency.

"Sir, don't forget your meeting at the orphanage this afternoon," the prissy secretary reminded Benny, referring to the firm's plan to adopt an orphanage in an attempt to improve their publicity. "Oh Shit!. Do I have to? Can you ask Ashikin to go instead? Do I look like I have time to go to such places!?," Benny revolted back, to the shock of Dewi the secretary.

"But Sir, It's imporant that you go. Its for the sake of the company's image. You know the firm has already achieved so much success. It's only right that you go in person. Anyway it's for a good cause", Dewi tried to argue.

"You know those kids. They're so dirty and noisy and they like to cling on to you. I ain't built for that kinda stuff you know Dewi," Benny grumbled. "Sir, it would only take about an hour. Common, I'm sure you'd like it", Dewi reasoned out. "Well Dewi, you're coming with me since you think you're so smart", Benny replied. Dewi smiled sheepishly and before she could say anything, Benny barked, "What the hell are you smiling about?". "Well nothing Sir. I'm just glad you decided to go. It would do you some good. Trust me. It would warm that cold heart of yours.", Dewi said in a cool manner.

For the early part of the morning, Benny pondered about what Dewi said. "Am I that bad?" Benny mused. Dewi made Benny sound like he wasn't human at all. Like a man without compassion. A man without love. All these years Benny worked for himself and his company. He sacrificed his social life and time and hobbies. For what? For whom? Does it make him a better person? Does it make Benny content?

Benny began to mull over the way he treated his employees over the years. He knew he was hard on them, but deep inside, Benny meant well. They have never tasted so much success till Benny took over the firm. "Doesn't all this mean anything to them?"

Benny stepped out of his room and gazed around him. It was defeaning alright. The sound of the printers and computers and his employees rushing from one point to another. They seemed like busy little bees. As Benny paced down the aisle, he looked hard at their tables one by one. Posters and drafts lie scattered in a mess. These are the things that are blind to Benny's eyes. yet these are the things that make the company what it is today.

Benny continued pacing down till he reached Shelly's cubicle. Cute little pictures of Shelly's family decorated the cubicle wall. Based on the small gallery that Shelly has created, Benny gathered that she has a beautiful son. Sure Benny knew Shelly by name. But what kind of person is Shelly really like? What is the name of Shelly's son? Where does Shelly stay?

It was then that Benny realised that something was missing in his life. The element of compassion. The human touch. Love. Benny knew all his employees by name. But not in person. Benny stood in front of Shelly and blurted out, "Shelly, am I a bad boss?".

"Well you are OK I guess", Shelly said unconvincingly. "Common Shelly. Tell me. Do you guys talk behind my back? Do you guys hate me?", Benny quized. "Well Sir, is everything ok? Is there something wrong?", Shelly sounded concerned. "Well nothing", Benny whispered as he turned away. "By the way what's his name?, Benny pointed to the picture where Shelly's son has chocolate all over his face. "His name is Toby", Shelly replied in between smiles. "And he has chocolate all over him. Toblerone to be exact. It's his favourite", Shelly continued.

Benny smiled and hastened his way to his office. He grabbed his car keys and stormed out of his room. "Common Dewi. We're goin", Benny exclaimed. "Sir it's only 10am", Dewi said as she looked at Benny in bewilderment. But Benny grabbed Dewi by her hands and they were on their way.

Benny stopped by Marks & Spencer's and bought the craziest amount of candies. He bought so much that the staff there had to help him carry the load down to the carpark. Dewi was wondering what was going on. Benny was acting the strangest ever and Dewi must have thought her boss has gone bonkers.

As they reached the orphanage, the children were having lessons inside so it was calm and peaceful. There is a huge playground in the middle of the compund and cute little drawings looked like wallpapers outside the classroom walls.

Benny carried the bags of candies with the help of Dewi to the main office. The people there were just as suprised as Dewi was when they saw how much candies there were. "The kids are gonna love this!", one of them blurted out. "This is the first time such things happen", she said. "May God bless your kind soul Mr. Benny", she remarked.

Benny walked toward his car to get the last bag of candy. He noticed a boy sitting on the steps at one of the buildings. He was wearing a tattered Manchester United jersey. "ROBSON" was printed above the number 7 on the jersey. Bryan Robson used to be Benny's football hero when he was growing up. "Gosh that jersey must be over 20 years old", Benny thought.

The little boy then ran toward Benny and grabbed as much candy as his little hands could contain and cheekily hid his hands behind his back. "Common Son, put it back. You will get your share later on", Benny said to the boy. The boy shook his head and smiled cheekily. "You know boy, there is so much more candies inside and you and your friends are all going to get it later on when your teachers distribute them", Benny tried to reason.

Out of nowhere, one of the staff came out said in a raised voice, "Tommy! Put back the sweets. Now!". The boy dropped the sweets and ran towards the playground. "I'm sorry Sir", the lady apologized. "Tommy has a toothache and could not eat candies. In fact he is going to the dentist now to get his tooth pulled out. So I guess Tommy could not have the candies at all. Maybe next time", the lady explained to Benny.

In the office, Benny felt bad. All little Tommy wanted was some candy and Benny had a part to play in crushing Tommy's fragile heart. Benny grabbed a handful of candies, filled his shirt pocket and walked out toward the playground.

Benny sat on the swing next to the one Tommy is on. Tommy asked, "Are those sweets you carried just now for all of us?" "Well yeah. There is so much for everyone. Including you", Benny said. "No. I cannot eat sweets. I got toothache. I am going dentist now and dentist won't allow me to eat sweets too. But its ok Uncle. If I don't get to eat the sweets, my friends can eat my share", Tommy said innocently. He was so pure. As pure as the grass is green. And his heart was clear. There is no trace of selfishness in young Tommy...unlike adults.

Benny emptied his pocket and Tommy gleamed in delight. Tommy gobbled up the candies so fast that he failed to notice Benny shedding a tear of joy. Benny made someone happy today and that was the best feeling he had in a long time. There and then Benny pledged to be a better person...inside as well as out.

They say that a pot of gold awaits you at the end of the rainbow. People spend a lifetime searching for their pot of gold. If only they looked closer to their hearts. They probably could find what they've been searching for.

Blynd Fayth

Love Looks Not In The Eyes,
But In The Mind.
And Therfore Is Wing'd,
Cupid Painted Blind.

- William Shakespeare
A Midsummer's Night Dream

I Remember You

I Remember The First Time Our Eyes Met,
Though I Hesitated, I Had No Regret.

I Remember The First Time I Called
Though You Were Shy, I Was Somehow Not Appalled.

Do You Remember What You Wore On Our First Date?
Well I Did Because You Looked Great.

I Also Remember The First Letter You Wrote
Your Words Seem True And It gave Me Hope

So Do You Remember Everything About Me?
Well I Hope You Do
Coz I Remember Everything,
When I Remember You.

Elyah: The Secret Rebel Child

Elyah doesn't like conversing. A boy with a few words. He only speaks when spoken to and only if its necessary. He doesn't need friends for friends do not last just like formless pieces of drifting clouds.

His schoolmates find him strange for he always seems deep in thought like he was solving an incredible mystery. Deep set eyes that glows... but with a remarkable hue of darkness. Dull yet sparkling. Elyah is simply the finest looking boy in school. Fair skinned and well combed hair. His complexion was flawless just like his drawings.

Every nook and cranny of his textbooks is filled with brilliant artwork. Gruesome looking creatures to beautiful maidens. Portraits of his teachers and some of his classmates. His drawings captures these individuals in the most intriguing manner. It seems you could tell what each character is thinking just by looking at his drawings.

It was amazing how Elyah aced all his subjects even though all his time in class is spent drawing. And it came to a point where the teachers' didn't mind him not paying any attention for he topped the class in every single test. It didn't take long for Elyah to request to be seated right at the back.....alone.

Being the mystery that he was, soon all the girls secretly had crushes on him. Their wild teenage fantasies revolves around only one boy in school. Elyah became every girl's wet dream. Love letters find their way to Elyah's desk every morning. Elyah never opens any of them. He just keeps it in his bag...to be burned when he reached home. But the girls do not give up. Their infatuation instead grows...just like the hatred of the boys towards Elyah.

They just grew envious of him with the passing of each day, especially the 'cool' boys in school. If this was bloody America these boys would be the 'Quaterback Jerks'. Waiting for opportunity to come knocking. Hope upon hope that Elyah would offend them one way or another. They just needed a reason to spark a brutal hammering.

The days counted on and the examinations loomed nearer. Attention shifted from Elyah toward studies as this was a critical year for the students. The number of letters Elyah received diminished and by the time study break came...it just stopped.

Punctuality has always been a virtue of Elyah but somehow he overslept and was late for his first paper. The rain lashed out ferociously outside and his mother forced him to carry an umbrella. How he hated it but given the circumstances, freedom of choice wasn't present.

Eliza, his classmate was also late it seemed for she was as suprised as Elyah was when their eyes locked at the back of the bus. Eliza was drenched to the bone. She looked as though she was soaking in the bath tub the whole night for her skin was shrivelled at the fingertips. But she smelt good. The unmistakable smell of Gucci Rush.

Elyah's presence made her uncomfortable. They have never talked let alone sat in close proximity. Eliza is a shy girl. A geek. But she is ravishing...only the world does not know it yet....except for Elyah, for Elizah has featured in alot of Elyah's drawings. Eliza undoubtedly has eyes for the boy too but coming from a family of religous educated folks, studies was always forced upon her to be top priority.

Eliza is the daughter of a popular pastor. If her father knew she got involved with a boy, she'd probably be sent to an all girls school. Eliza did not dare look at Elyah but she was glad she wasn't one of the girls that sent him love letters. Imagine the embarassment if she was one of those girls.

The bus finally reached and they have 5 mins before the bell begins to chime. Eliza rushed down the bus first and sprinted to the traffic crossing. It was red and the rain is still beating down like a posessed drummer. But Eliza realised she could not feel the drops. She was protected by the umbrella Elyah was carrying. Though it seems like a sin for her to mutter 'Thanks", she somehow found her voice to do so. Elyah just nodded, with the same cold expression sprawled across his face.

Since that day, Eliza could not forget about Elyah. She busied herself with thoughts about him but she was simply too meek to go up and talk to Elyah. What if the rest of her friends saw them talking? What if the pretty girls who liked Elyah saw them talking? What if her teachers saw and told her father? Eliza thought about all possibilities each night and yet no action was taken.
Her love for him just remained a secret.

The exams were finally over and Elyah topped the class once again. Eliza was a close second. Then the June holidays arrived and no one gets to see Elyah anymore...at least for another solid month. To Eliza, that seemed like forever.

Eliza prayed to bump into Elyah once again in the bus on the first day of school but she was plain unlucky. She really wanted to say thank you again and probably start a conversation. Nevertheless she was just elated to see Elyah in school and for a while, her insanity just disappeared.

Eliza sat quite a distance from Elyah during recess that day. In such a way that he could not notice her. And she gazed and she gazed, like how sheeps gaze upon the fields on the opposite hills. Then the unthinkable happened.

The 'Quarterback Jerks' gathered around Elyah and sat at the same table. They were louder than usual and they started mocking verbal abuse at Elyah. Elyah remained calm as he tried to finish his lunch. Elyah did not flinch a bit nor did he skipped a heartbeat. The verbal hurling got louder till the point the whole canteen were looking at that particular table.

Elyah finished his lunch and placed his utensils down. He wiped his mouth and starting from the boy on the left, he stared at each one of them. The same hard steely glare he always had...only this time his eyes seems to have a purpose. Swiftly, he grabbed his fork and jammed it right down through the middle of the palm of the boy sitting nearest to him. The boy whinced in pain as the blood oozed out like a geyser.

A massive brawl commenced and Elyah took on all of them like a gallant prince. They were no match for his vengeful blows but it was one against many and within a few minutes, the boys managed to corner Elyah and pounded on him like hungry pirahnas.

They tore off his shirt and gave Elyah their all. Elyah was hidden in the middle of the rucus and the only traces of him was the blood that dripped from his nose unto the floor. Soon, the teachers made their way to the scene and intervened.

The boys retreated and slowly but surely, Elyah stood up, with eyes still fixated on the boys. Adopting a fighting stance, he was ready for Round 2. Anger sumberged whatever pain that fell upon him. And as the warm blood flowed down to his bare chest, only then did Elyah realise that his shirt had been ripped off.

Now this was a sight to behold. Elyah's whole chest was an art masterpiece. Intricate tattoos covered his chiselled chest and stomach...all the way to his back. Less for his arms, his whole body was not spared from the Ink. Ink the colour of his eyes.

Everything seems to fit in now. The reason he always goes to the toilet to change for P.E lessons even though all the boys changed in class. The reason why he always wore a black inner T-shirt. And somewhere at the far side of that canteen, Eliza realised the end of her dreams. No way her father was going to approve of such a boy. A boy from the other side of the tracks.

Slowly, Elizah made her way back to her classroom. Sobbing uncontrollably. Reality bites and so does love. On her desk sat a neatly rolled paper tied with the reddest ribbon. She unlaced the ribbon and saw the most beautiful drawing. There was no doubt the girl in the picture was her. It was raining and standing beside her is a boy carrying an umbrella. It was a moment stuck in time that Elizah shall remember till she aged. Below it was signed...... "Elyah...For Your Eyes Only"

One Fine Day

Behind his blue eyes lies a huge curtain of shyness. He saw her everyday yet the first step always seems to evade him. People around him always barged him to go talk to her but they just did'nt understand him like I do. It was'nt about saying the wrong things and making oneself look stupid. It was a matter of pride. Lion's pride.

Both of us work the same way. We gaze from afar yet we know more than we should. He never got within a 100 meter radius of her warmth yet he knew her name, he knew where she lived, her favourite colour her favourite scent and her favourite brand of clothes.

As he meddled himself silly with her soft laughters and contagious smile, he thought if he actually deserved her. There were many conquests in the past. But that was before. Gone are the days of endless nights in the back seat of his dad's car. Gone are the days of habitual partying. Pretty dance queens come and go like the neon lights lining up the infamous Mohamed Sultan strip.

Diana did not have Nicole Kidman's skin, nor did she have Eva Mendes's mole. She did not have Jeniffer Aniston's hair nor Jeniffer Love Hewitt's body. Diana is different. She remained chaste and she has her charms. She was trendy in a way yet revolting to teenage norms. Diana is just....different. Of course no one saw this but him. The one that watches from afar.

"Good luck for your exams ya", he muttered in a coy manner. "Thanks. You too," was the similar response. She wasn't expecting him to say anything. But she smiled endlessly. She felt it. It wasn't a myth after all...these tingling butterflies in the stomach. And from there it all started.

They talked a little everytime they met. It was mostly about school. Even if it was only a few words, it meant alot to both. And when the exams are over, he asked her out for a date. It was the most memorable date for him and a blast for her. The first time she held a boy's hands, the first time her lips met anothers' and the first time she has someone to finally call her own.

Diana is the eldest daughter of a rich family of merchants so traces of her loverboy has to be as discreet as sparrows mating. She had to lie profusely just to go out and meet him but she did not regret one bit. After 2 weeks of love bliss, Diana was to accompany her aunt to Istanbul. It was supposed to be a holiday but not anymore it seems for holiday now means lying in the arms of her boy.

So before Diana left for the airport, she called and asked, "What do you want from Istanbul my love?" "Nothing. Just come back quickly and safely to me", was the modest reply.

Istanbul was beautiful. It was colourful and vibrant and it was full of life. Streets were thriving with little shops and honking vehicles. For a moment, Diana was happy to be in Istanbul but when the bus she was in came to a screeching halt, her thoughts were again of her boy back home. And she rested her head at the window. In her muse, she shed a tear for him.

From the opposite road, a lorry somehow lost its direction and went head on for the bus Diana was in. The resulting accident was a massacre. The driver of the lorry died on the spot. Several people in the bus was severely injured. Others escaped unscathed. But Diana was unlucky for she suffered multiple head injuries. And she fell into a deep sleep.

She was rushed to the top hospital the same time news rushed to her boy's ears. Doctors there did what they could but her condition remained unstable. It was decided after a couple of days that she will be flown back to Singapore for further treatment.

As her family was strict, the boy still could not visit. His phone calls were treated like dirty strangers and he has to go through Diana's girlfriends for any news. It has been three weeks now and her condition is improving but seeing her seems impossible and boy did he missed her. There are video captures of her in his hand phone but looking at them only made him weep.

It was then that he sat on the bench where they met for their first date. The first time they held hands and the first time their lips locked. And it was then that he remembered Diana asking him what he wanted from Istanbul. The boy is still waiting for his gift.

Dosed

I got dosed by you and
Closer than most to you and
What am I supposed to do ?

Way upon the mountain where she died
All I ever wanted was your Life
Deep inside the canyon I can't hide
All I ever wanted was your Life...

- Red Hot Chili Peppers

Sink & Drown

“25 years had passed, and minimal ideals were altered.”

Orgenij had always dreamt about the world ever since he could remember. Listening to his cousin dwell on foreign experiences never failed to delight him either. He would plan out his future at times. Just so he could invest on a certain figure, which would enable him on a joyride to nowhere.

After high-school, Orgenij struggled. College ended up in a disaster and “joyride” looks uncertain. Even his alternative passage, as a temporary barista, turned sour. Things hardly went in his favor, he mused. His personal relations took a toll eventually, due to his lack of commitments. Orgenij lumbered in depression for the next two years.

Without clues or direction, his search for an answer became desperate. Through these years, he went on a personal quest to redeem himself. Orgenij even volunteered on a government appointment. He needed measures to alter himself. All this while, he limped.

Through the boundaries of networks, he listened. Series of random hearts poured on multiple journeys. Each had his own tale to tell, and even worse than Orgenij. Bewildered upon the crux his colleagues faced, he encrypted these messages as key. A parallel catalyst inherited to unlock his unfinished revelation.

Four years passed, but still, he endured. He outlasted the pain and gained a new outlook on life. He found a meaning and it wasn’t the world after all. Though it seemed vague at times, he realized a deeper sense of satisfaction. Orgenij couldn’t figure it, yet. He doesn’t intend to either. Rather, he chose to let it sink…and drown his globe-shaped heart.

-Story By Edwurdt The Poet

Balance

Sports has always been benevolent to Johnny.
100m Boys Champion.

200m Boys Champion.

4 x 100m Boys Champion.

4 x 400m Boys 1st Runner Up(Let's blame it on the 3rd runner).

1992-1998 Boys Overall Champion.

1994 -1998 Boys Cross Country Champion.

Finisher of the Iron Man Marathon in 2002. 4TH, 8TH & 3RD in the Standard Chartered Marathon consequitively for 3 years running.

Accolades fit for a king. This was just the first row of trophies in Johnny's cabinet. Yet there were still spaces for a few more.

A gleam of smile flashed across Johnny's face as he admired all the gold that represented his conquering days.Vivid memories always seem to find its way into his head whenever he closed his eyes. From his first Sports Day in Primary 4 all the way to the most recent event he took part in.

His parents were ever present at all events. They were there to share the same cup of memories. Pictures of triumphs that last a lifetime.The support he received was massive, like the fate he is condemned to. Admist the flashbacks, Johnny spilled the scorching coffee on his lap. But yet he remained calm...like the last few steps towards the end line that was all too familiar to him.

Johnny went out into the garden.Perhaps he needed some fresh air to cool his troubled mind. There was the uncanny smell of rain in the air. Johnny looked up and saw moody grey clouds lumbering over the small colourful roofs in the distance. Not far away from him was a garden snail, making its way slowly and painfully to the Ixora bush. In 20 miinutes, slowly but surely, it finally reached its destination. A very small distance yet it envied Johnny for he might take all of Eternity and still fail to do likewise.

Johnny smiled. What a contrast. How he wished he could move. Even if it meant as slow as the garden snail. Freedom of movement governed him for all of his glory days. Now condemned to a wheel chair, Johnny realised that it is no fun being paralyze.

Ilhan & The Rocking Chairs

In cities where skyscrappers longed for the sky and roads were paved with endless opportunities, poverty was thought to be a thing of the past. But not in this city. For right at the end of Cheviot Hill not too long ago there used to be a falling wooden house. A house small enough to be given a miss. Yet it was here that a once young Ilhan learnt values which the rich... given ten life times...could not have attained.

Ilhan's father is a rocking chair carpenter. It was a family trade. Even the most advanced of technology could not create the kind of precision and woodwork that his father's hands could. The chairs always seem to be in perfect center of gravity. Always.

Tides change, seasons change and like the moon which gives way to the sun every morning, so does preferences and trends. Rocking chairs are being descarded for new leather chairs. Rocking chairs were suddenly old fashioned. But good traditions die hard and this was the only thing Ilhan's father knew how to do. He has 4 sons to feed, to educate and to raise.

Though there still existed folks who came to Ilhan's father for a custom made chair, business was relatively at a stand still. They barely made ends meet but Ilhan's father wanted his sons to go to school. Somewhere deep inside, he some what knew that his sons's education was probably the last throw of the dice for a comfortable life. This forced him to seek odd jobs elsewhere.

Alas 30 years of sawing and sanding and bending over the work bench somewhat showed in Ilhan's father's health. Ilhan knew what was going on but his father always tried to act normal and brave in front of his sons. And when his children are out of sight...he would lean back against the wall, clutching his chest and cough out loud. Ilhan felt the pain too.

Then there came a special order of 20 of the finest rocking chairs. It was a showcase for the 'Color me 60's' exhibition at the Museum. The man in charge of the event knew exactly whom to look for. Like a man repossesed, Ilhan's father straight away sorted out his tools and started sawing. To him, it meant education money for his sons.

During the day, Ilhan would help out his father in the woodshed but after dinner, Ilhan would be forced to do his homework. He would be beaten up by his dad whenever he attemted to do 'overtime'. Since it was the monsoon season, Ilhan's father worked well into the cool rainy nights.

Ilhan could not sleep. Admist the pouring rain, he could listen to the monotonous sawings from the woodshed. Then he heard the sound of coughing. And he felt hurt again. Ilhan thus made up his mind there and then. As soon as his father retired for the night, he would sneak out into the woodshed to do whatever he can.

And that was exactly what he did. Ilhan was a fine carpenter. It was in his blood. His posture...his strokes..his precision was pinpoint. Before the morning prayer call, Ilhan would sneak back into his room to catch whatever sleep he can before he wakes up again for school.

Everyday, this little misadventure would occur and Ilhan's father remained unsuspicious. His father was somewhat amused that he did more than he thought he did the night before. But he put it aside...believing that since he worked late into the night he must have forgotten how much he actually did. Not knowing that he had an angel to help him.

Days and days of insufficient sleep showed when Ilhan failed his class test for the first time in his life. Ilhan has always been a straight 'A' student. When news reached his father's ears, his father was disappointed in his eldest son. Ilhan was confined to studying shall not help in the woodshed anymore. And yet Ilhan still continued with his misadventures every night.

Then there was one afternoon when Ilhan was at the study table..too tired to concentrate on his homework...and he dozed off. Forehead on the pages of his Maths textbook. His father happened to come in for a glass of water and flew into a fit when he saw his son sleeping when he was supposed to be studying. His son was sleeping in the afternoon and Ilhan was whacked like a punching bag.

And yet...Ilhan still continued his angelic deeds in the night. After 3 hard months of compromising his studies and sleep, alas the 20 rocking chairs were completed. Ilhan's father was extremely delighted when he went out of the house for the museum. He was paid handsomely as promised and he decided to buy some stuff which his family could never afford before.

That afternoon, on the way home, he bought a huge box of St. Michaels chocolate biscuits. After dinner that night, he placed the chocolates on the table and his sons preyed on them. All except Ilhan who was in his room studying. Ilhan's father and mother didn't even want a piece of chocolate. They wanted their sons to have everything.

Ilhan stood up....wondering what the commotion in the kitchen was all about. He opened his room door just enough to peek thru. Tears of joy filled his eyes when he saw his younger brothers eating away at those expensive chocolates. They were happy and it made him happy too. In the midst of the happenings, Ilhan's father took a handful of chocolates and put it in the cabinet. "Keep this for my son Ilhan", he told his wife as he walked out into the veranda to sit on his rocking chair.

We Are The Youth

From all the years of suffering

And all the years of broken hearts

We will remember when the

Revolution starts

...and now like a warrior that I was

Meant to be

I will stand in this ground with

Pride & dignity

We are the youth

We are the truth

We have survived the darkest times Of lives

We are the youth

We are the youth

Our turn will come & we will have Our day

-A.C.A.B

The Travelling Companion

There is this golden rule which travellers across the world abide.Be it backpacking, holidaying or perhaps a walk across the country side. 'Travellers share everything during their travels except a lady'.

At the youthful age of 22, Dzul wanted to venture beyond his country of origin. He wanted to explore a culture which was close yet alien to him. It was his first time out of Singapore and his mother was so worried she wanted to follow. That was never going to happen. Dzul listens to Led Zeppelin while his mother listens to Nancy Sinatra. Dzul likes his steak rare while his mother likes it well done. There will always be conflicting interests....and to top that list, his mother is a slow walker and there's nothing that's going to hold him back.

With very little money and an abundance of enthusiasm, Dzul left for Thailand. It was indeed the land of all smiles. The warmth of its people was similar to its weather. Communication was always going to be a thorn in the leg but it's the joy of overcoming these difficulties that makes life rewarding.

Dzul settled in the cheap streets near Khao San. A reknowed strip to backpackers worldwide. All the cheap essentials could be found along the 400m stretch of road. And when night falls, the trendy bars open its doors to a world of vice. But nevertheless, it was a good place to meet people from all over the world. People who came from faraway lands with little or no money. People who viewed life differently. People who are not into the rat race. Free spirited people.

Dzul made plenty of friends by the 3rd day. By the 5th, Julian agreed to venture the poorer states of the north together with Dzul. The long bus journey was like a rewinding timeline. The fast paced life of Bangkok gave way to the humble paddy fields of Udon Thani. The companions alighted. Where they were going, there were no roads.

On the right, lush green lands spread across the countryside and met the blue horizon that was the sky. On the left was a path that led to the mountains. There are the odd settlements around the mountains that made it look somewhat like small LEGo pieces from afar. They took the path on the right.

It was 12 noon and the sun was belching out on the two with full force. The path they were on were filled with the occasional litter. Probably by past travellers. Probably by local village boys. There was a crushed Pepsi can in the middle of the track. Secretly, both Dzul and Julian longed for one. But they remained silent. Dzul kicked the can into the bushes as he cursed to himself. They were tired and Julian has already drained out his water supply.

After 4 hrs of walking, they rested under a rambutan tree. The shade it provided was comforting. Like snuggling under a thick blanket in a cold air-con room. Julian extended his hand and begged Dzul for some water. Dzul willingly obliged. After all they were travelling companions. National Service in Singapore sure did help Dzul thought. Those endless route marches actually did help after all. Maybe the UK should have National Service too...to toughen up blokes like Julian.

Both Dzul and Julian grabbed the juicy rambutans from the lower branches. It was like kampong days for Dzul...for Julian it was a first time eating rambutans. By 6pm the only rambutans left were a huge bunch that was too high to reach. That was spared for the time being. Night was approaching and Dzul went around searching for firewood. Julian stayed back to guard their belongings.

That night, they talked about their homelands and about their cultures and it was a very eventful day. Julian could go on and on like a train. Dzul was happy that he had someone like Julian around.

The next morning they were woken up by children from the village nearby. They must have seen the fire that the travellers built the night before. The children were naturally funny. They were laughing at Julian's golden hair. They were running around kicking a football and Dzul and Julian joined in the game.

Football is truely an international langguage. They did not know what the kids are shouting about and yet they enjoyed the game like as if they were back home. One of the kids then took his bicycle and raced down the road. He came back 15 mins later with a big bag. Inside were bottles of water. Some of which were cold....some of which were of room temperature.

Dzul then took one of the boys by the hand and walked toward the rambutan tree. Julian was already there rummaging through his belongings. Dzul wanted the Thai boy to climb the tree to get that huge bunch of ripe rambutans. As they reached the tree Julian must have gotten a shock for he dropped his bag. Spilling all its contents. Tens of juicy red ripe rambutans rolled on the floor.

There was silence and guilt on Julian's face. Dzul looked up and the rambutan tree was as barren as the surrounding green fields. The Thai boy of course did not know what was going on. He ran back towards his friends. Dzul followed behind...disgusted with the selfishness of his companion. The Thai boy took a cold bottle of water and gave it to Dzul while he took the room temperature bottle for himself. Such was the warmth of Asian hospitality that beats western influences hands down....anytime...anyplace.