Thursday, February 10, 2011

Singapore Identity

The nurse walked in, carrying an assortment of pills on a hard metal tray. She set it down next to the old man, waking him with a loud clanging in the process. He gripped the white plastic railing with his trembling hands, and slowly he managed to lift his frail body to a suitable position to take his pills. He still had a few pitiful strands of hair left, all of them streaked white. Slowly and methodically, he examined each and every pill before gulping them down. Satisfied, the nurse left and let his favorite visitor in.

Until now, the old man’s face betrayed no feelings, but as soon as the child walked in, the mask crumbled away and he grinned from ear to ear, showing his only remaining two teeth. “How is my favorite grandson today?” Once a week, every Friday, his favorite visitor was fetched by his chauffeur to the hospital to visit him. The boy embraced his grandfather, his plump body, youthful energy and naïve outlook a stark contrast to the thin, tired and abused frame of the old man.

Ye Ye (Chinese for grandfather), are you feeling any better?” He held his grandfather’s hand tightly, hoping for the best. “Yes yes Alex, nothing to worry about,” lied the old man. They told him that he had not long to live, and when he asked to return home, they denied him his wish, pointing to charts and figures he could not understand. He was bitter. They just wanted to milk him of more of his hard earned money. Money, money, and money it was always about that. How he detested the very thought of dollar signs! His own flesh and blood son, along with his wife of his Martha or Marcy or Mary he could never remember, was always away on business trips and meetings and such, never coming to visit, not even during Chinese New Year. I will die alone and uncared for, he thought grimly to himself.

As usual, Alex took out his homework to do, his brows furrowed in deep concentration. “Alex, do you want to hear a story? “ His grandfather asked, slowly and slightly hesitant. Alex nodded eagerly, eyes fixated on his grandfather as he begun to speak.

The old man had been preparing all week for this, each word and each pause carefully planned out for maximum impact. He spoke carefully and with deliberation, to ensure that his grandson would hear and understand every word. He had been practicing almost every night, mumbling it to himself before he slept. Yes, he thought to himself, I must tell him about our roots. To him, this would probably be the last important task in his life.

“In my family, there were 5 children. I was the youngest.” Alex’s jaw dropped. He was an only child. The old man anticipated this and continued nonchalantly with a slight grin,” We had family dinners almost every day, the seven of us including my mother and my father squeezed around a small wooden table, the dingy room lighted by a single light bulb. Even worse, all I got for lunch was porridge and dinner was half a bowl of rice with just several pieces of salted vegetables at the side.”

Well, I have the whole table all to myself, they don’t come home as often as they used to. I can go out and buy anything I want to eat but it’s not nice when there’s no one to accompany you… ” Alex looked down on the floor and mumbled to himself. The old man heard it all too well but continued anyway, determined not to be side tracked.

”Back then, no one had a television, not even a telephone! I remember every Friday night we would gather around at the community center, watching fuzzy black and white images of the news. We were all trying to learn English, so we watched it even though it bored us half to death. It was hot and humid.. smelly too.” He had a look of disgust on his face, as if he was there instead of the cool, stale hospital ward.

“It’s not fun even though I have a computer, television and my mobile phone. There’s no one next to you to joke and laugh with. It’s just not fun…” came the somber reply.

The old man was really at a loss of what to say. It was never suppose to be like this. “Stop interrupting me when I’m speaking to you!” he wagged his finger threateningly. Alex nodded apologetically, “Sorry.” Satisfied, his grandfather continued.

“Anyway, back in my day, we climbed trees, went around catching spiders, going for a dip in the muddy pond and occasionally playing five stones. Sometimes we even-“

“What is five stones?” Alex just could not contain his curiosity.

This time, the old man’s jaw dropped. “Wha-What? You don’t know what is five stones?” He was dumb-founded. Five stones was the game back in his schooling days. Hastily, he ripped five pieces of paper from an old yellow notepad on the table next to him. He crumpled them into 5 small yellow paper balls. The next 5 minutes were spent explaining the rules. After which, they spent a good deal of time laughing and playing the simple game. Together.

After beating his grandfather at five stones pretty soundly, he checked his watch and announced sadly that he had to start going home. The old man was dismayed. He still had so much to tell, so many events to describe… But no, his grandchild really had to leave. He probably had more important things to do than entertain his old grandfather.

Rather ironically, as Alex left, each of them thought to themselves that the other had a much better life. Alex, facing the uncertain future alone, and Mr. Tan Kam Leng, facing the inevitable, his only companions the gentle beeping of his heart monitor and the four white walls that surrounded his bed.

4 comments:

Jack Tan said...

I can relate a little to the title, Singaporean Identity, as these type of situations you have written of is rather common, especially in Singapore. But the thing is I cannot see the link in finding your identity and in this story. Perhaps the ending is a little unfinished, leading to my misunderstanding.

KANG JUN YI said...

Hey Sean!! About your short story, I agree with Jack that there is no way I could find the identity in your story, and your ending as well, ended too abruptly. However, overall I feel that you managed to tell readers about the past and the present lives that Singaporeans lived and is still living, by the grandfather telling his life story to his beloved grandson, with him interrupting on and on, complaining about his own life being worse then his grandfather's. Good job though!

Stanfy said...

Yo Sean! First of all, I would like to say that your story is exquisitely crafted. (it looks like you took 4 hours to write it) However, like Jack and Jun Yi have said, there is little but some reference to Singaporean identity. This story also highlights the contrast beteween past and present generations. In conclusion, your story has many descriptive phrases and feelings. This is good, however try to improve on the linkage to "Singaporean Identity".

Stanford Kong 2O309

Walteroi said...

Hey Sean ! I agree with the rest about your short story . The link to the Singapore identity is very hard to find . However , as Stanford has said , I agree that your story is rather well written . The descriptions are really vivid and simply reading it makes me empathise with the pitiful grandfather feel as though I was right there , in that room at that time . For this part , it was really well done !! Yay !! Perhaps in your second draft you could include a plot that lead you to discover your identity or perhaps make it more prominent ?