12-08, Somerset Liang Court

The day has subliminally given way to the dusk, and rain drops fall pittering and pattering on the extremely well kept roads. Not a spot of dust, not a speck on my shoe- that's how a fellow Bharatiya would characterise this place. For the good or the bad, when I look out of the west view room of apartment 1208, I see high-rises; some much higher than the others. This funny thing about the multi-stroyed apartment complexes here; they are painted in all possible imaginable colours. Right outside is a mustard yellow 25 storeyed with a grassland green crown. Next to it stands a maroon and blue striped tower.

There is something about this country- not only is everything very well thought of, the people are very obedient as well. Oh! But then there are these ridiculous rules:

Drinking Coke on the street: SG $300 Fine
Jaywalking (Ever heard of Zebra crossings?): SG $1000 Fine
Biking in the underpass: SG $5000 Fine

And then we came up with this;

Viciously abusing a Nepali in chaste khadi boli: Priceless!

Try it sometime.

Grumble

It is said that when it rains, either someone up there is crying out of joy or he needs some serious morale boost. I reckon, and want to believe, that the former reason predominates more often than not.

Looking out at the lush greenery, there's a calmness in the air. As if a parched old man has been given his due after a long time. The trees are buoyed by the magnanimity of the lashing rains, something they were looking forward to the most.

There is something around, a restrained ecstasy in some ways, and it's very difficult to pen it down right now. Maybe you need to sit next to the window and let the rain seep inside you as well to actually express the gamut of emotions teeming within.

Maybe it's an augury of the good times to come. Or maybe, a portent of the storm ahead.

To, Ma

At 12, I never got along with you. Call it my growing years, or your inability to cope with a petulant obese kid- we just could not stay in the same 15 by 20 for more than a few minutes before one of us lost our cool. Why? I guess that is because I started thinking for myself- for the good or the bad- and you were always the one who knew it all.

At 15, I became a li'l indifferent. Not because I cared less, but because I started caring for myself a wee bit more. Yes, you were there and I was too. But I started making a world for myself. A world that you would know little of, a world for me. I wonder why I did that? Aren't our worlds the same? I wish I knew this then, as I do now.

At 18, I left home for the first time. I missed you terribly, and maybe to adjust to the new environs and to stop thinking about home, I started retracting into my shell. I became aloof, less sensitive and maybe rude, again. I was trying to heal myself, and in retrospect, I now know that it was not a good plan.

Today, I know how much you mean to me, and how much I owe to you. I know you are a very strong and opinionated woman, and I am proud of you for that. It is a pleasure, and an honour being your son. There is no other family, and no other mother that could make me who I am today. I think we understand each other more today, and I thank Him for being kind to both of us.

That's a decade for you Ma. A decade wherein I lost myself, and have almost found 'me' again. Thank You! for bearing with this whimsical, rancorous kid.

Yours, always.