New York, New York

New York, New York. The city that never sleeps. A city where the lights of the nightime transits into the 8th wonder of the world. A city where all the flavours of the world converge into one eloquent melting pot of cultures. A city that inspires movies, both old and new. A city where sleeping in the deserted subways brings as much joy as enjoying the trolly-pushed hotdogs on a park bench. New York, New York, a city so beautiful, it has to be mentioned twice.

It was an opportunity not to be missed for young Noel, when his boss, Steven proposed an all expense business trip to New York. Business or not, it already sounds like a holiday of a lifetime. For someone whose only brush with cold weather is confined to the ghastly four walls of his air-conditioned Singapore office, the mere mention of the trip deafened his surroundings for a good few seconds.

Noel blinked his eyes a couple of times before getting in sync with reality. He accepted the offer without thinking much of his almost depleted bank balance. And so it is, as his name is being printed out onto the boarding pass, Noel D'Souza, Destination : JFK International Airport. As the warm winds of the south finds its way to the north, and the birds of the city shall start to sing again, Noel is exhilarated to welcome the spring in New York.

Noel enjoyed the business aspect of the trip as much as the diverse sights and sounds that the city has to offer. He will be literally be drinking from the taps when he returns to his homeland, but you can try reminding him so and he would gladly scuff your words aside. Halfway into the trip and Noel has already bought 2 more bags to accommodate his wild shopping antics.

On the the second last day however, over breakfast consisting of hotdogs and some orange juice in Central Park, Steven shot a question out of the blue to young Noel, "So Noel, are you enjoying yourself in the company?". "Why of course Steven. I'm just blessed that you have given me the opportunity despite my lack of experience to ply my trade in the industry. You know I went to countless interviews only to be rejected because I couldn't speak a word of Mandarin or because I didn't possess enough industry experience. But I guess you must have saw something in me to give me a shot. And I have never been anything less but dedicated and committed to the company's cause", Noel said in one breath.

"I mean I really love this job and despite the unearthly hours that we work till most of the time, I still wake up each day with the same amount of enthusiasm and eagerness to step into the office doors. At the moment, this job means everything to me Steven. Supposing this wasn't New York. Supposing we are now at the Beach Road hawker centre back home, and you're asking me this exact question, I'd have answered it just the same", Noel continued.

"And you Steven, I mean you have taught me so much. Even more than what my lecturers taught in school. You have been a great mentor, a great boss, and a great friend and I'm proud to tell my friends that I'm working under such a dedicated and talented individual as yourself. To be honest Steven, I don't think any other boss would have shared his knowledge and experience to his colleagues the way you did to all of us in the company", Noel confessed his inner thoughts.

"You know, it's a funny way of putting it but....you remember the last FA Cup Final when Steven Gerrard scored the equaliser for Liverpool in the dying seconds against a plucky West Ham side?" "Well of course!", Steven exclaimed. "How can I ever forget that? Simply fantastic!", Steven said in between bites.

"Well yeah. Gerrard is the sole heartbeat of that Liverpool side. And you are to the company what Gerrard is to Liverpool. Well, I'm a hardcore Man Utd fan but we lost our heartbeat when Roy Keane left and I can't think of another example. But yeah, you are the heartbeat of the company," Noel claimed.

"Thanks Noel. It really means alot to me the way you say it. Well, it is very hard for me to say this. I have not told any of them back home but, I'll be leaving the company in a couple of months time and I just thought of sharing that with you. I know a lot of them including you would think of leaving as well once I'm gone but I'm just hoping that you guys stay in the company you know. Help it grow. Stay on a little longer until you find another suitable place," Steven dropped the bomb.

Noel felt like how the West Ham players must have felt when Gerrard blasted in that sumptous volley into the back of the net in the game's dying seconds. "Well I can see that you are dampened by what I have said but I hope you guys respect my decision you know. I have my personal goals to attain. I mean, I'm still a phone call away if you guys need me. I'll still be glad to meet up for coffee or dinner or something. Just thought that you should know this first Noel", Steven attempted to cheer up young Noel.

Deep down, Noel knows that this is part and parcel of life. People come and go in our lives and it is often those that touches you in one way or another that always seem to inflict the deepest wounds. Steven for one had a huge part to play in Noel's infant professional career in the industry. Whatver that Noel has accumulated in the 9 months or so in that company can be all accredited to Steven's guidance.

Steven is like the doting father to all in that company and by him leaving, the impact would be as great as a homeless child. The hotdog somehow didn't taste as good anymore after all that he heard in the last few minutes but Noel tried to hide his feelings from Steven. Both Steven and Noel, teacher and student, advertising guru and protege walked side by side toward the end of Central Park, deep in their own thoughts.

New York, New York, a city so beautiful, it has to be mentioned twice. Noel was promised the spring, but instead he found Autumn in New York.

Story Of The Rain

They say a wounded heart can take as short a time taken for a match to ignite or even as long as forever to heal. Rezel for 3 years now has already succumbed the fate of his love life to the later. It seemed effortless to forget the memory of someone etched like a bad virus within. Try as he might, somehow Rezel always resorted to comparing the girl he currently is dating to Jasmine.

Unfair you might say to compare two completely contrasting individuals but efforts taken to advice him to refrain perpetually falls on deaf ears. Time and again, he leads himself into the inevitable and comforting atmosphere of comparison. What a cruel habit.

On the first day of the new year, fresh from the aftermath of the hard partying that ended 2006 on a record low, the manager introduced the new girl from Ipoh. Though she looked every bit as modern and trendy as the common Singaporean Malay girl, her essence and upbringing was still very much deeply rooted. Juliana as of now, has yet to be corrupted from the politics of the world that very much enclaves our sunny island.

Rezel quickly developed a positive professional relationship with Juliana for her ability to hold witty conversations and her quirky dressing very much appeals to him. It makes working in Advertising seem like a gentle breeze when in actual fact, stress levels could effortlessly reach boiling point.

2 months into the job and somehow, Rezel began to look forward to the next working day as soon as he sets his foot into his house. For a moment, Rezel refused to acknowledge the fact that he is somewhat smitten by his colleague but at the back of his head, it would be a massacre to sacrifice a solid working relationship that he already has with Juliana.

After many confessional booth type sessions and late night binges with his buddies, Rezel somehow plucked enough courage to ask Juliana out after work one day on the pretext of having 'coffee'. Apparently, as Rezel subtlety puts it, "nothing beats unwinding oneself down after an eventful working day like a chilled Ice Blended and a warm Chocolate Brownie".

They have the luxury of the nice backdrop of the draping Singapore skyline and the pristine but somewhat murky waters of the Singapore river flowing by the side of the cafe. It didn't take long for Rezel and Juliana to drown themselves in meaningful, 'healthy' arguments.

When the verbal disputes got too tense, they would somehow find a way to meander the direction of the conversation to the walking passerbys and the hustle and bustle of the tourists that flooded the quay side cafes.

Secretly, both didn't want the night to fade away too fast but midnight was approaching and the the red clouds hinted that rain was approaching. Like the gentleman that he is, Rezel paid for the drinks and whatever brownies that they had and both walked toward the train station.

Without prior warning, the sky opened and rained on the two. Rezel pulled out his umbrella in a jiffy and attempted to shelter both of them from the menacing rain. Both of them saw the funny side to the situation at hand as they wet their designer shoes as they stepped into the odd puddles that mushroomed on the brick walkway.

After a somewhat long ten minute walk, trying to keep themselves dry from the rain, they approached the traffic junction where many others are secretly cursing for the 'green man' to come on so that they can cross to the safe haven of the MRT station entrance.

Each time a car or a bus approaches the junction, it meant a possible splash of dirty rain water potentially splashing on their fine clothes. No one liked these kinda situations which always crops up in those Hollywood comedies.

While waiting, both Rezel and Juliana couldn't help overhearing the couple standing next to them. The girl was giving the guy a hard time and bitching about the rain ruining their evening. She blamed the boyfriend for not bringing an umbrella, she blamed her boyfriend for her wet clothes, and she blamed her boyfriend for coming late which resulted in them getting caught in the rain.

Standing in front of Rezel and Juliana, another couple was having a similar squabble where the girl was blaming her boyfriend for everything. This couple was somewhat more extreme compared to the other for the girl was generally uncouth in her choice of words. "How could something as natural as the rain be the object of these domestic disputes", Rezal thought to himself.

Without warning, a taxi cab sped past the junction and splashed the pitter patter raindrops on all at that Church St junction. The quarreling went up a few notches but Rezel and Juliana looked at each other and just smiled. Juliana locked her arms around Rezel's left hand and leaned her head on his already wet shoulders. "Raining also want to fight. Haizz...these people ar. No big deal mah raining. Most to most wet only", Juliana exclaimed while she tightened her grip on Rezel's hand.

The moment those words came out from Juliana, Rezel knew that this girl must be special. Her ability to remain calm and collected during times of peril in the office overflowed even when it isn't concerning work. Her free spiritedness and her ability to take 'hardship' in a light-hearted manner moved Rezel. Like the short time taken to light a match, Rezel secretly fell for Juliana. At that Church St junction, cupid's arrow had left its quiver and struck Rezel's deserving heart.

As they lived in totally extreme ends of the island, Rezel insisted to wait for Juliana to board the train first. They parted their goodbyes and Rezel stared solemnly as Juliana walked through the sliding train doors. All the while, Juliana forced herself not too turn around for she could feel Rezel's warm parting eyes on her.

Just as the beeping sounds of the train signaled for its doors to close, Juliana turned around and walked out of the train. She hurried toward Rezel, whoose heart already skipped a couple of beats. "Is she going to give me a kiss on the lips?", Rezel hoped. "Peck on the cheek also can lah", Rezel bargained with himself.

"You know what Rezel. I can't deny that I really like your company and especially today, you intellectually and physically swept me off my feet. I don't know how to put this but err...how shall I say this?" Juliana struggled with her words. "I'm not one to deny when it comes my way but I have to tell you that I have already promised my parents that after my 2 year stint in Singapore, I'll go back to Ipoh to marry a Datuk that I do not love at all!!!. Do you have any idea how that feels?! There I have said it. I'm sorry Rezel", Juliana confessed with tears welling in her eyes.

Juliana boarded her train and left Rezel alone to swallow what she had to reveal. There is no one to blame in this case, Rezel thought but nevertheless, he could feel his heart break once more. How could a love so pure, just vanish so quickly. As Rezel thought more and more about it, about their good working relationship, about the good time he had just a while ago, Rezel realised that he at long last managed to fall for someone without comparing her to Jasmine.

"Maybe I'm just not meant to fall in love again", Rezel concluded to himself as he made his way home. The next morning, Rezel, still fresh from the mishap from the day before, was standing again at that Church St junction on his way to work. The very junction where Juliana rested her head on his shoulders, the very junction where he felt her skin for the very first time, the very junction where he shall always remember the love that the Rain brought him.

Boys Will Be Boys

An associate posed me an intractable question any male, given ten lifetimes would find it a little too overwhelming for his liking. The most nimblest of rappers, the wisest amongst scholars, a charismatic war dictator, even for a moment or two, I'm sure would stumble in their vast knowledge before conjuring up an unsatisfying acrid reply.

"Why does my boyfriend cheat on me despite me being filial, loving and sincere to him?", the associate of mine queried. I tried hard within a nanosecond to deliver a witty riposte but ended up shaking my head and unconvincingly muttered, "Hmmm, maybe it's because you've been neglecting him? Guys need a little attention too at times you know?". "Forget it! What do you guys know anyway!", she silenced me off. To be honest, I was glad our discussion did not precipitate into something ugly. Reputations are at stake, and I prefered for mine to remain intact.

I must admit that her question made me ponder for the remaining hours that was left of my day at the office. In an ideal world, I'd settle for the fact that any male should be contented with what is presented to them. Alas, our world isn't like that since the evolution of time. Only a male would understand the necessity to untiringly seek self improvement.

Think about it, if Men in general were meant to be contented, Mr Stone Age would not have created sparks and eventually fire by knocking on 2 pieces of stone. Mr Monkey Man would not have created spears to catch him a salmon in the rivers. Mr Alexander Bell would not have invented the telephone and we would have to use paper cups with zillions of strings in between them. Imagine! What an ugly world that would be. Hey, Mr Albert Einstein would not have invented electricity and we would have to make love in pitch black conditions. Imagine!

Well 6.30pm came, and I was off to 'collect' some goods which I 'purchased' from one of the more glamorous shopping centres in town. You see, a good friend of mine has been working in a particular boutique there for a good number of years now. And when people constantly asks me, where do you dig all the money for all the fine threads hanging in your wardrobe. "I slog blood and tears for it!", I'd always reply. For good or for bad, that statement is just partially true.

And so I waited at the wooden bench opposite the lingerie shop with a book on my lap. Occasionally, I glanced my head up to relieve myself from the strains derived from reading... unerved by the events that was about to happen. We were professionals in this crime. Subconsiously, I monitored the people going in and out of my 'escape' door which was probably about 2 metres to the right of the bench I was warming.

It was interesting trying to analyse the people that entered that Lingerie store. There are days when though I was too far away to listen, I could roughly make out what was being said to these customers. I've seen shy guys trying to explain to the sales assistant what they want to get for their loved ones. I've seen teenage boys fret uneasily as their girlfriends browse through the kinky numbers. I've seen fat women fuming when being told that such delicacies does not come in size 984757438987. Then for the first time that day, I spotted a MILF entering the store with her adorable 5 year old son trailing behind.

As Mummy was busy going through the lace section, cute lil boy was staring hard at the protruding assests of the store's mannequin. He pranced around the mannequin for a couple of rounds, eyes wide open. Then cheekily, he unzipped the front portion of an outrageously kinky panty. Like the naughty boy that he is, he must have realised the damage done and he ran toward his mum's side and acted all innocent, complete with droopy puppy eyes. He deserved an Oscar for that. No one saw that episode but me. I smiled to myself as I returned to my book.

Constantly thankful for the invention of digital watches, the alarm went off as the time showed 20:02. I got up, made my way through the door, grabbed the handles of my HUGE paratrooper Army bag already there fillially waiting and just had enough time to see the bottom half of my accomplice's legs scurrying up the flight of stairs. Within minutes, I hailed a taxi cab and was on my way home.

That night as I lay in bed, I can't help pondering on the events of the day, constantly still musing over that question being posed to me. I thought about the actions of the cheeky little boy. I thought about our insatiable habit of heisting expensive branded clothings and accessories. I thought about unfaithful husbands and boyfriends. I tried hard to device a sound justification or rationale behind all these actions. Perhaps the age old saying has pure truth to it all. Perhaps, some things are better left unexplained. Perhaps... Boys Will Always Be Boys.

The Hero Whose Story Almost Died

There it hanged, in the middle of the hall in my grandma's living room. The main event surrounded by hoards of other smaller ones. It was the oldest and dustiest. It's black and white appeal paled out to the modern coloured ones.

Funny how the other photographs on the dainty pink walls each had a story to tell. Stories that could possibly speak a thousand words. Mostly jovial stories, depicted from those smiling faces embedded in fine print.

Yet again all the black and white photo got were stealing glances, while the modern ones always had people asking about it. The black and white photo it seemed, had no story to tell. So I grew up in that house, oblivous to that photo altogether, like a dried leaf, being blown further from its home.

You see, the portrait in that black and white is my late grandfather. A volunteer in the second World War. He served under the Royal British Navy and picked up a few medals here and there. But when he passed on in 1975, so did his uniform and medals, being tucked away in a wooden box, and banished in the dark cellar.

I, the writer, was born in 1982, and by that time, no one spoke about my grandfather, except for the very trivial one liners like, "Your grandfather is a nice man", or "Your grandfather would be very glad to see you if he is still around", or "Your grandfather was a hero". But these statements were empty...like a great big museum which once housed treasures of the past.

It was one fine night, shortly after my 22nd birthday, when I was feeling a little peculiar that I crept down the wooden stairway to fetch myself a glass of water, that I paused and took a closer look at that photo. Clad in his white uniform, medals lined his left breast pocket like how the street lamps lined the modern expressways.

That night, I looked at that photo with a different perspective. In his steely eyes, he seemed to want to tell me his stories, stories of the war, stories of the struggle, the overcoming of brutal massacres, and the happiness that came after the spoils of war.

Slowly, I brought my hand and touched my grandfather's face, for the very first time. Though the photo was dusty and rough, I felt the warmth. I felt the bond that never had the chance to surface. And if I let time take its course, all would have been gone should my grandmother close her eyes. For she's the only one left that holds on dearly to the key that can unlock the secrets of the solitary black and white photograph.

That night, I woke my sleeping grandmother up, begging her to tell me the tales of the past. It was History lesson 101, with a special personal touch. Every word she breathed kept me riveted to my bed, and I yearned for more.

She told me about how he escaped a sinking ship and swam to St John's Island, which was back then, a haven for lepers and polio victims. Despite the high chances of him catching the disease, he opted to stay there. To help the dying, the mourners and the hundreds of injured soldiers condemned on that island.

A few weeks later, he was to be stationed at mainland Singapore to reinforce the British. The British surrendered, and so did my grandfather, retreating to his home to protect his family. Life was hell from then on, for the Japanese were brutal animals.

When all the troubles were over and the island people start to rejoice again, the then Queen of England presented to those gallant soldiers several medals to commemerate their undying efforts. For a while, people spoke of it, but then people spoke less and less until it just remains as memories like ashes resting in an urn.

Then, as the city flourished, and people start to amuse themselves with all things modern, forgetting the past, where they came from, who their grandfather's were, and the sufferings they went through. Times when they had to queue many hours for a miserable tub of water, when now, with the turn of the tap, you could just immerse yourself in 20 minute baths.

The next morning, I was late for school and the stories fed to me the night before just seemed like a passing dream. In my rush, I ran into the kitchen to kiss my grandmother goodbye and stopped short as I was running toward the main door.

There, on the wall, was that photo in its full glory. Stories hidden beneath its black and white facade. It looked harmless and boring amongst the pretty pictures surrounding it. I stopped and stared hard at the man looking down on me. I dropped my bag, and saluted the photo...the photo that didn't have much stories to tell but just epics hidden in time.

The stories my grandmother told me that night will stay vivid in my mind for as long as time permits. It will be told and retold to my children, and my children's children. Some things are meant to live forever.

Let's Get D_v_ _ _ e _!

It didn't felt too long ago that I left secondary school. I left behind many great stories, some real, mostly exaggerated. Stories are meant to be exaggerated, like how trees are meant to have leaves and how a football match are meant to have plenty of goals. Life would be meaningless sans these staggering exaggerations. Think about the last time you had been given the opportunity to retell a story...if you didn't exaggerate it a little, you must be a boring liar.

Like I said, it didn't felt too long ago that I left secondary school. It was sad to leave behind the many interesting people and experiences that effortlessly always seems to linger my way. Of course there are many bad ones too, like broken hearts and puppy love, ugly girls and unwanted hair sprouting up like buildings in some modern city. And then there was pesky Sally. The teacher's pet no doubt for she had a penchant for telling on the rest of us.

She was the resident snitch. And as much as people wanted to gauge her eyes out, they can't!! For she would have told on the teachers the moment you started imagining such mishapen tales. We used to tease Sally that she would never be the bride of any sane man ever but Sally always seemed unpurturbed by such remarks. Deep down however, Sally began to muse over the possible truth to that matter.

Time flies like a Boeing 747 and before I could even balance my career on four stable legs, one by one, the girls from my alma mater started ringing their wedding bells. The pretty plastic ones ended up marrying ugly but rich pests and had their life made out already...simply by being pretty. Its Fantastic.

Then the ugly ones excelled in their studies and commanded relatively high salaries. They married equally ugly opposites but justified everything by bringing home an average income of about ten thousand dollars! To an extent, they have the last laugh but too bad they're probably gonna have ugly smart children.

And the biggest shocker of all rocked my boat one mundane evening when I received an invitation card for pesky Sally's wedding. "What a wanker!", I thought to myself as I read out the groom's name. It was puzzling and amazing at the same time, the fact Sally found my correct address and had the cheek to invite the ever so mean and heartless class joker to her wedding. Maybe she just wanted to prove to me that there really is such a thing as true transparent love. Interesting eh?.

I attended the wedding nevertheless. For the sumptous food, for the much awaited catching up with the other lads from secondary school, and to lay to rest the itch that had been bugging me. I wanted to see first hand the idiot that made the biggest mistake of his life.

Well I must admit that he looked pretty normal to me. He looked every inch a genuine nice guy that didn't deserve the hannibal like tortures that awaited him. And I felt sorry for him. Though Sally didn't seem as pesky as she was but I choose to believe that has something to do with brides not being able to utter a word while in public.

And so Sally was off the shelf and off to the Maldives for a blistering week of a rocking and humping honeymoon and that's suppose to be the icing on the cake for a blissful wedding..

A month later, I bumped into the newlyweds at Borders Bookstore. Of course, I attempted to be friendly and greeted them with the longest of smiles and heartiest of words. Sally was returning to her pesky self once again and took out her photo albums to show me some of the pictures taken at her wedding. I tried to look interested as I browsed through it.

Sally didn't allow her husband to get into the conversation. She dictated everything. He was carrying like 40 shopping bags while Sally was holding on to her Dior handbag.

As I bid them farewell, I lingered on a few more seconds to look at them walk down the long narrow isle and I felt his loss. After just ten steps or so, Sally's husband glanced back at me and lip synched a sentence. I was trying hard to swallow whatever that he said...coz if I remembered correctly, he said, " I Want A Divorce!'. Well pesky Sally, it appears, some things never change and I'm not exaggerating this time round.

The Tale That Wasn't Right

Once Upon A Time...

On a morning where the splendour of the rising sun crept above our sleepy island inconspicously, Ayshah was already listening to the music garnered by the formless winds as her car sped across a barren expressway.

She was early no doubt, but she couldn't wait any longer. Though her appointment with Dr. Lim was scheduled for 8am that morning, showing up sooner at the hospital somewhat appeased her constant flusters.

As she waited, the dainty footsteps of a nurse echoed along the empty corridors. Other than that, the atmosphere at the hospital transformed to a genuinely ghastly silence.

"Ms Ayshah, you're awfully early", Staff Nurse Imelda broke the ice in her Tagalog accent. "Yah, I can't sleep last night Nurse. This results thing is getting to me. Hope it's nothing bad", Ayshah tried to sound positive. "Well there is a God child. We'll hope for the best. I'll pray for you", Nurse Imelda offered her compassion.

"Insyaallah", Ayshah whispered in her heart as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the wall.

Ayshah fell asleep without putting in much effort but it lasted only an hour as one of the younger nurses woke her up and walked her to Dr. Lim's office. As the nurse closed the door, once again the ghastly silence creeped into the air.

Dr Lim motioned for Ayshah to take a seat while he flipped through her results file. It was as though Dr Lim refused to look at his patient. Ayshah felt her heart trying to get out of her chest as she waited for Dr Lim to speak.

"Well, let's cut to the chase Ayshah. I am not going to lie to you. The test results has confirmed that your cancer cells has already spread rapidly to the major parts of your body. It would have helped if you came for a detection early, but there is nothing much we can do", Dr Lim sounded as honest as he possibly can.

Whatever Dr Lim said henceforth fell on deaf ears. To a cancer patient, the only thing that mattered now was how long do they have left. But Ayshah was different. She accepted God's will with open arms and a few tears. For her, she's going to live as though everyday was her last.

The loving people around Ayshah wept secretly when they heard of the tragic news but they strived to be by her side to ensure that everything was as joyous as summer.

It took a good couple of months before Adam, Ayshah's childhood friend learnt of her illness.By that time, Ayshah's condition deteriorated and left her on the bed for the most part of the day. Being a busy professional, Adam found it hard to snatch away some time to pay his friend a visit.

On one such frustrating night at work, Adam leaned against the splendid glass window of his office and dialled Ayshah's number. They talked for a good 15 minutes. They talked mostly about the past. And for the first time in months, Ayshah candidly managed a laugh.

"I'll be dropping by tomorrow Ayshah. Is there anything I can get you?" Adam offered. "Nothing lah Adam. Just come already can. If you really want to bring something, make sure it makes me happy Ok?" Ayshah replied.

I couldn't possibly think of any object tangible or otherwise that could appease a leaving soul. Adam, despite his complicating work related issues circling within his mind, somehow tried to wreck his brain to think of a meaningful gift.

Adam never thought so hard before and unknowingly, he fell asleep whilst deep in thought. With God's grace, Adam had a remarkable dream that night. In that dream, the world was 1979 once again. A time where simple pleasures like playing in the drains and catching butterflies brought about as much laughter and warmth as how a Playstation could ever bring to a child of this present day.

In that dream, he saw how on every Tuesdays and Thursdays, Ms Andrea, the lovely Eurasian lady would always gather the kampung kids to read them fairy tales. Sometimes, when she had more time to entertain us, she would kindly choose a role for the kids and when she reads the story out from the book, we would act out the part.

On one such occasion, Ms Andrea was reading "The Firebird" to the kids. It was Ayshah's favourite fairy tale and she demanded to be the fair Helena, the princess in that story. The setting was all to vivid for Adam and just as Ms Andrea was about to finish the last page of The Firebird, Adam awoke from his dream.

It took a while for Adam to arouse his senses. For once, Adam wanted to be brought back again in time. To a period in his life where there wasn't any responsibilities and where the bad things seem to only happen to grown ups.

Then it hit him. Getting that Firebird book would make the most perfect gift. But Adam wasn't interested in the reprints. He wanted to locate the original publication. The exact ones when they used to read while they were kids.

Adam took the day off and set off to search for the book. He scoured almost every old bookshop he could find but they only carried the modern reprints. Then, when Adam was about to give up all hope, he saw it. In a small second hand bookshop in Bras Basah Complex. A similar copy to the one he read while he was a kid. He flipped through the pages, he could still remember all the illustrations as he flipped on.

Overwhelmed with satisfaction, Adam made his way to Ayshah's home. Ayshah was sleeping when Adam arrived. Adam noticed how weak she looked even in her sleep. Adam did not want to wake her up so he crept by her bedside and stared at his friend.

Adam must have been there for hours with the only movement from him is the battling of his eyelids. Adam then took out the book, rested his hands on her lap, then started to flip the book open.

Adam began to read. In a soft yet clear tone. Adam tried to emulate the way Ms Andrea would read to them back in the days of 1979. Adam was really too engrossed in reading that he failed to notice Ayshah waking up from her sleep to listen to him.

Ayshah stole a smile then pretended to close her eyes. She listened attentively to her favourite Fairy Tale that was being read aloud. Then as Adam flipped to the last page, he stumbled on the words. He refused to read it out aloud. Adam snapped the book close like the jaws of an alligator.

"Finish up the story Adam. Common", Ayshah whispered. "Huh. You mean you're awake this whole time?" Adam replied bewildered. "Yah..Of course I'm awake. My favourite fairy tale you know", Ayshah struggled with her words before letting out a series of coughs.

"I can't Ayshah. It's just to painfull", Adam started to tear already. "Just read it out lah. I want to hear it", Ayshah requested and that reminded Adam of how she forced Ms Andrea to let her act out as the fair princess Helena.

"Ivan hurried into the palace. There stood Helena in her wedding dress, and when she saw Ivan she gave a cry of joy. His two brothers were struck dumb with terror.

When the Tsar heard Ivan's story he banished the wicked brothers, and gave half his kingdom to his youngest son instead. Ivan and Helena were married and lived happily ever after."

"Bullshit! Where got such a thing as happily ever after?" Adam began to sob as he looked away from Ayshah.

"No Adam. You can't say that. This is life. This is God's will. You have to be strong. In the game of life, the only thing that is certain is death. It's the people that we meet along the way...the events that we go through... these are the things that we can count on to make us laugh and make us smile. And by you doing all these, it has surpassed any of my expectations.

This is my happily ever after Adam... You made my rainbow even more colourful that it already is", Ayshah said while holding on tightly to Adam's hands. "This is my happily ever after."

Sherene's Closet's Full Of Suprises

The first time Mr & Mrs Yusoff brought Sherene back was a day that was all too burdensome to forget. Only a week old, Sherene had the rosiest lips that equalled her porcelain skin. Her eyes brought about a deep sense of tranquility, her dimples as deep as valleys, and her little fingers was as delicate as wilting flowers.

The Yussof's had been trying far too long to have a child. 8 years to be precise. Sherene's dulcet cries, aimless smiles, her telling eyes and endless hunger calls in the wee hours of morning all contributed and transformed the Yussof's humble abode into a home.

It's funny how us humans accomplishes so much throughout our lives and often the things that we always remember are the 'Firsts'. The first cry, the first kiss, the first smile, the first tooth, the first step, the first fall and the list just grows.

The Yusoff's documented every 'Firsts' pertaining their only child through photographs. I remembered looking through their photo albums. The collection was more than my lifetime put together. I saw Sherene's first day at home, her first smile, first tooth, first wound on her chin when her mother accidently hit her at the endge of the table.

Then I saw her first birthday cake, and her first orange school uniform in Kindergarten, her first toy car, her first watter bottle, her first Barbie doll schoolbag, her first pair of Velcro Bubblegummers shoes. Through the eyes of these photographs, I can't help smiling and thinking to myself, "What a beautiful and blessed life Sherene is about to go through". She has such loving parents that showered her an abundance of love and affection.

Sherene grew up very much into the daughter that every parent wished for. She is well-mannered, soft spoken, graceful, and spots an undying smile as she performs her household chores. Very much a rarity these days and time.

Then on her 16th birthday, for the first time, her parents decided to throw her a lavish surprise party in their huge garden. There was to be expensive food, loud music and all her family and friends will be there.

Of course, Sherene does not know of this as she came home that day. Her mother was out 'doing groceries' while her busy father's still at work as usual. She set about doing her household chores with that forgiving smile on her face as always. All of a sudden, Sherene decided to take a look at her growing up photo albums. The same one that I told you about earlier.

High and low she searched for it but to no avail. It wasn't among the other albums, it wasn't in the living room, it sure wasn't in her bedroom as well. She then opened her mother's wardrobe and saw it perched up in the top shelf, amongst other miscelleneous stuff.

Sherene groaned as she tip toed and tried to reach for that album. Realising that she was still too short to reach it, she grabbed a stool and tried again. Sherene lost her footing as she attempted to lug it out from the cupboard and the album, along with a pile of other stuff rained on her.

Sherene sighed at the thought of having to re arrange everything nicely again in the cupboard. As she picked up every single item piece by piece, she came across a yellowish piece of paper, folded nicely. She opened it and read its contents.

It was a letter of adoption. It bears her name and that of her 'parents'. Sherene attempted at holding back her tears until she was at the comfort of her own room. She buried her face into her pillow and thought hard. She didn't need that album anymore. In her mind, she pictured her first birthday and her first day at school and whatever first's that life has to offer.

This day marks a series of many 'firsts' in Sherene's life. The first time she cried buckets. The first time she thought of slitting her wrists. The first time she felt so lost. The first time she learned that life is indeed a beautiful portrait.....like those photographs. It was just nice to look at but the emotions of those within the photos remains concealed and untold.

the party my friends...I'm afraid has already began. From one friend to another,
Happy 16th Birthday Sherene....
I'm still real..
I'm still a phone call away..
I'm still real
I'm still Real
I'm still REal
I'm still REAL

Someone Else's

Someone Else's

Remember the first time we watched Shrek? The 'irritating lady' beside me was making it difficult for us to spend a little quality time. She didn't know I had not seen you for a month prior to that day. But its ok, we enjoyed irritating the hell out of her. But we enjoyed the movie more.

We enjoyed it so much that i said, "If there was ever going to be a Shrek 2, I will only watch it with you". You squeezed my hand and replied, "Of course lah...Who else will I watch it with?" And that felt better than the movie, but I did not tell you so.

3 years later, Shrek 2 came out and I felt eager like a child. Even if there were 100 'irritating ladies' waiting for us in the cinema, I'd still enjoy it just as much. Alas I was in NS and you said we'll watch it the day I booked out. The show was sold out that weekend so we ended up buying tickets for another show. But I ended up watching you instead.

The following weekend, you pissed the hell out of me when you said you watched it with your school friends. I kept it inside but told you it was ok. I had a 'fever' that weekend. The 4th time I ever lied to you. I watched Shrek 2 alone...because I know you've already watched it with someone else.


Then came the moment I was going to ORD. I saved enough money for us to go to Hong Kong's Disneyland. Though it wouldnt have been as glamorous as the one in Los Angeles, it was all I could afford. It would have been great, coz u liked Disney, and so did I.

And then the wind decided to blow the other direction. You had to accompany your sister to Kuala Lumpur for an 'urgent' matter. I told you its ok for I have not purchased the tickets. It was the 6th time I lied to you.

It wasn't bad at all going to Hong Kong on my own. I had good company with me and I shopped like a prince. When the rest wanted to go to Disneyland, I declined and went to do some photography. The weather was perfect and I had the perfect shots of old buildings. Funny how I felt dissappointed when I developed those pictures coz the buildings refused to smile and made the photo dull.

Staring at the photos, I realised it wasnt the buildings that was sad. It was me. Coz I knew you were having a ball in Kuala Lumpur. With your sister, with your friends, and with someone else.


In my first letter to you. I gave you a list of things 'we' should do before grow old together. Number 8 on that list was to take a ferris wheel. You gleamed when you read the next item on that list coz Number 9 says that we will have our first kiss when we are somewhere up there.

Though that list was all based on dreams and fantasy stuff, it seemed possible when they proposed to build a ferris wheel at Marina. The tallest in Asia somemore. What else could be as beautiful?

Then came the moment we broke up. Though its still a few years before the ferris wheel is complete, I still relish and hope that I will live that moment. Not with anyone else but you. Writing this, I can almost see the wheel rotating into the brilliant Singapore night sky. The brilliant view of the city skyline in the background will be obscured by your heart shaped face. But the one staring at you isn't me of course. It's someone else. Someone else.

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.