Last night when I got home I didn't even bother giving salam. My mother was sitting at the dining table and she immediately went Wow, no salam, ni rumah Christian ke? Only this morning I started wondering why she had to use Christianity's name to tell me off.
It wouldn't be the first time. From as far back as primary school when we were watching Scooby-Doo together, I started liking the sound of Daphne's name. I said it again and again, before asking my mother why didn't she name me Daphne? She responded with a snap, Eh tak mau, tu nama Christian!
My elder brother and I fought a lot during then too. We were fighting about the computer one day, and I screamed until my mother came in and made him promise to let me have my turn in five minutes. He shouted okay promise! We all thought it was settled, until he brought up his hand to reveal crossed fingers.
He got a beating on the shoulder, before she told him off Alamak, jangan perangai Christian lah! It brings me to another flashback of her warning him during his rebellious stage about never ever getting tattoos no matter how 'bad' he gets.
If I bother thinking about it, maybe she meant to point out the western culture instead. But it is thanks to her little remarks that made me grow up looking at things differently. Why I never dared to touch a dog or visit a Christian friend's house.
My father wasn't spared, with the many times he caught me returning home without giving salam as well. One day he asked me, Do you have a lot of Chinese friends? Why don't you ever say Assalamualaikum? That was probably when I started questioning this weird disdain my parents have against people who aren't Malay/Muslim.
I've been living in a house where the people who tell me to believe don't pray. God forbids I even say a dog is 'cute'; little do they know I just touched one yesterday, a shaggy puppy who was so excited to see me. Little do they know I don't always check for a halal certificate before settling somewhere to eat anymore. Little do they know I have tattoos of my own, so cleverly hidden thanks to my cardigan habit.
Whatever my parents tried to feed me have all been voided, either spat out behind their backs or turned into waste in my own privacy. My mother's efforts and my father's money that sent me to religious classes have all gone to waste, simply because they fed me with the left hand. And the best part is, they don't even realise that they've raised me wrong.
Tuesday, March 20, 2018
Thursday, March 15, 2018
When the world ended twice more
Let's try to make it the simplest I can.
It started with a missed alarm and realising I was late for work. Stock-take day, where we have to report at seven in the morning instead of the usual ten-forty-five. If you know me, that's my biggest nightmare: being late and/or not fulfilling what I was supposed to.
Everything that happened after still burns in my mind now. The call from a part-timer who left weeks ago, his name flashing across my phone screen. The meal my colleague was eating and the conversation we had. The t-shirt my other colleague was wearing, the one with the three aliens from the Toy Story franchise. Crystal clear like it just happened yesterday, even though it was as far away as another universe.
We left the store in the middle of the day, my China and Ipoh best friends and I. Bras Basah MRT was just ahead of us, and that was when we saw them: three tornadoes, lingering behind the station and staring right back at us. No, wait... I counted again. There were five, each about eight storeys tall.
Speaking as the subconscious: I felt the wind blow through my hair, I swear to god. I grasped onto my China colleague's arm, and that was when she grabbed us and we ran, taking shelter in the station. I watched backpacks and bicycles and bodies get taken in the meantime.
Somehow I made it to my home in Pasir Ris. My best friends were gone, though unclear whether I just lost them or they got taken as well. My only girl cousin from my mother's side was there, bringing in the laundry with my mother. I told them about what I had seen, five tornadoes that may or may not have chased me back. I didn't get to finish before they looked behind me and saw for themselves.
They must have grown a little more, because we live on the ninth storey, and they seemed to go higher than. It was enough to send my cousin and mother panicking, making them frantic with the laundry. Before we knew it though, one of the poles escaped my mother's hold and we watched it disappear among the tornadoes, just as well as swarms of vehicles.
We ran in but my cousin stayed by the gate and held her arms over it, yelling at us to run into the room. I didn't know what she was doing but my sister-in-law and her children came running out from the kitchen, so I just grabbed my nephew and followed them running into the bedroom.
I heard the cars banging against the window and some muffled screams here and there. By this time it was just me, my mother, my sister-in-law and her kids. My back was to the window because I didn't want to see or hear or feel or know. And then they said my name; I looked at them both and they pointed behind me, asking me to look.
It was right outside the window, right in front of me: the eye of the storm. The moment it paused I saw what it really looked like, with its metallic arms and red eye staring right back at me. This was what the hurricane looked like from inside.
My sister-in-law whispered to me, asking me to creep closer until I had a chance to remove that eye. For a moment I had a connection with this 'storm', resembling one of those alien things from War Of The Worlds. I stroked its face until my hand was so near its eye, but even then, I didn't grab it. The two women behind me start yelling for me to destroy it, yet I refused.
I got thrown back in time suddenly, like a flashback happening right there. It was revealed that I was a younger Audrey Hepburn in my previous life, with that iconic black dress from Breakfast At Tiffany's. I was somewhere in the 1960s, bustling about with all these girls and their beehive hair and little dresses.
It didn't take long before that fell apart. All the girls I was talking to previously ran away screaming, pushing me/Audrey until I/she fell. We fell into water, too deep to be a puddle but too shallow to be a pool. We looked up, and a tidal wave eight storeys high stared right back, waiting. It carried us, and the last thing I saw was Audrey Hepburn cuddling in the tidal wave, her face relaxed and almost in love.
I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense. I wish I could record everything. But I know a little of what it means, just that I will sound stupid saying it out loud.
It started with a missed alarm and realising I was late for work. Stock-take day, where we have to report at seven in the morning instead of the usual ten-forty-five. If you know me, that's my biggest nightmare: being late and/or not fulfilling what I was supposed to.
Everything that happened after still burns in my mind now. The call from a part-timer who left weeks ago, his name flashing across my phone screen. The meal my colleague was eating and the conversation we had. The t-shirt my other colleague was wearing, the one with the three aliens from the Toy Story franchise. Crystal clear like it just happened yesterday, even though it was as far away as another universe.
We left the store in the middle of the day, my China and Ipoh best friends and I. Bras Basah MRT was just ahead of us, and that was when we saw them: three tornadoes, lingering behind the station and staring right back at us. No, wait... I counted again. There were five, each about eight storeys tall.
Speaking as the subconscious: I felt the wind blow through my hair, I swear to god. I grasped onto my China colleague's arm, and that was when she grabbed us and we ran, taking shelter in the station. I watched backpacks and bicycles and bodies get taken in the meantime.
Somehow I made it to my home in Pasir Ris. My best friends were gone, though unclear whether I just lost them or they got taken as well. My only girl cousin from my mother's side was there, bringing in the laundry with my mother. I told them about what I had seen, five tornadoes that may or may not have chased me back. I didn't get to finish before they looked behind me and saw for themselves.
They must have grown a little more, because we live on the ninth storey, and they seemed to go higher than. It was enough to send my cousin and mother panicking, making them frantic with the laundry. Before we knew it though, one of the poles escaped my mother's hold and we watched it disappear among the tornadoes, just as well as swarms of vehicles.
We ran in but my cousin stayed by the gate and held her arms over it, yelling at us to run into the room. I didn't know what she was doing but my sister-in-law and her children came running out from the kitchen, so I just grabbed my nephew and followed them running into the bedroom.
I heard the cars banging against the window and some muffled screams here and there. By this time it was just me, my mother, my sister-in-law and her kids. My back was to the window because I didn't want to see or hear or feel or know. And then they said my name; I looked at them both and they pointed behind me, asking me to look.
It was right outside the window, right in front of me: the eye of the storm. The moment it paused I saw what it really looked like, with its metallic arms and red eye staring right back at me. This was what the hurricane looked like from inside.
My sister-in-law whispered to me, asking me to creep closer until I had a chance to remove that eye. For a moment I had a connection with this 'storm', resembling one of those alien things from War Of The Worlds. I stroked its face until my hand was so near its eye, but even then, I didn't grab it. The two women behind me start yelling for me to destroy it, yet I refused.
I got thrown back in time suddenly, like a flashback happening right there. It was revealed that I was a younger Audrey Hepburn in my previous life, with that iconic black dress from Breakfast At Tiffany's. I was somewhere in the 1960s, bustling about with all these girls and their beehive hair and little dresses.
It didn't take long before that fell apart. All the girls I was talking to previously ran away screaming, pushing me/Audrey until I/she fell. We fell into water, too deep to be a puddle but too shallow to be a pool. We looked up, and a tidal wave eight storeys high stared right back, waiting. It carried us, and the last thing I saw was Audrey Hepburn cuddling in the tidal wave, her face relaxed and almost in love.
I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense. I wish I could record everything. But I know a little of what it means, just that I will sound stupid saying it out loud.
Thursday, March 01, 2018
NSL
Marina South Pier, the boy who wants to fly
Marina Bay, for the girls and 14th July
Raffles Place, she let go and said goodbye
City Hall, the gift of ink from my tattooists
Dhoby Ghaut, the girl with all the gifts
Somerset, the hunt for a perfect pair of shoes
Orchard, with its very unlikely views
Newton, where even a circle must end
Novena, made safe by a new old friend
Toa Payoh, for my long lost father
Braddell, the wide smile of a robber
Bishan, the first place a lost one goes
Ang Mo Kio, looking out subway windows
Yio Chu Kang, where I handed you the gun
Khatib, for the souls I allowed to run
Yishun, devoid of life yet full of chances
Canberra, just another blank canvas
Sembawang, finally some peace…
Admiralty, my one-month old niece
Woodlands, I want to fall for this town
Marsiling, the rest I can do without
Kranji reminds me of a whole other state
Yew Tee, where we no longer own this date
Choa Chu Kang, we were at our darkest
Bukit Gombak, you might as well be the first
Bukit Batok, say goodbye to our youth
Jurong East, it’s time for the truth
Marina Bay, for the girls and 14th July
Raffles Place, she let go and said goodbye
City Hall, the gift of ink from my tattooists
Dhoby Ghaut, the girl with all the gifts
Somerset, the hunt for a perfect pair of shoes
Orchard, with its very unlikely views
Newton, where even a circle must end
Novena, made safe by a new old friend
Toa Payoh, for my long lost father
Braddell, the wide smile of a robber
Bishan, the first place a lost one goes
Ang Mo Kio, looking out subway windows
Yio Chu Kang, where I handed you the gun
Khatib, for the souls I allowed to run
Yishun, devoid of life yet full of chances
Canberra, just another blank canvas
Sembawang, finally some peace…
Admiralty, my one-month old niece
Woodlands, I want to fall for this town
Marsiling, the rest I can do without
Kranji reminds me of a whole other state
Yew Tee, where we no longer own this date
Choa Chu Kang, we were at our darkest
Bukit Gombak, you might as well be the first
Bukit Batok, say goodbye to our youth
Jurong East, it’s time for the truth