Wednesday, January 12, 2011

The Last Farewell to My Wife

Ancient peoples developed and ritualised mourning practices to express the shared grief of family and friends, and together show not fear or distaste for death, but respect for the dead one; and to give comfort to the living who will miss the deceased.

I recall the ritual mourning when my maternal grandmother died some 75 years ago.For five nights the family would gather to sing her praises and wail and mourn at her departure, led by a practised professional mourner.

Such rituals are no longer observed. My family’s sorrow is to be expressed in personal tributes to the matriarch of our family.

In October 2003 when she had her first stroke, we had a strong intimation of our mortality. My wife and I have been together since 1947 for more than three quarters of our lives. My grief at her passing cannot be expressed in words. But today, when recounting our lives together, I would like to celebrate her life.

In our quiet moments, we would revisit our lives and times together. We had been most fortunate. At critical turning points in our lives, fortune favoured us.

As a young man with an interrupted education at Raffles College, and no steady job or profession, her parents did not look upon me as a desirable son-in-law. But she had faith in me. We had committed ourselves to each other. I decided to leave for England in September 1946 to read law, leaving her to return to Raffles College to try to win one of the two Queen’s Scholarships awarded yearly.

We knew that only one Singaporean would be awarded. I had the resources, and sailed for England, and hoped that she would join me after winning the Queen’s Scholarship. If she did not win it, she would have to wait for me for three years.

In June the next year, 1947, she did win it. But the British colonial office could not get her a place in Cambridge. Through Chief Clerk of Fitzwilliam, I discovered that my Censor at Fitzwilliam, W S Thatcher, was a good friend of the Mistress of Girton, Miss Butler.

He gave me a letter of introduction to the Mistress. She received me and I assured her that Choo would most likely take a “First”, because she was the better student when we both were at Raffles College.

I had come up late by one term to Cambridge, yet passed my first year qualifying examination with a Class 1. She studied Choo’s academic record and decided to admit her in October that same year, 1947.

We have kept each other company ever since. We married privately in December 1947 at Stratford-upon-Avon. At Cambridge, we both put in our best efforts.

She took a first in two years in Law Tripos II. I took a double first, and a starred first for the finals, but in three years. We did not disappoint our tutors. Our Cambridge Firsts gave us a good start in life. Returning to Singapore, we both were taken on as legal assistants in Laycock & Ong, a thriving law firm in Malacca Street.

Then we married officially a second time that September 1950 to please our parents and friends. She practised conveyancing and draftsmanship, I did litigation.

In February 1952, our first son Hsien Loong was born. She took maternity leave for a year. That February, I was asked by John Laycock, the Senior Partner, to take up the case of the Postal and Telecommunications Uniformed Staff Union, the postmen’s union.

They were negotiating with the government for better terms and conditions of service. Negotiations were deadlocked and they decided to go on strike. It was a battle for public support. I was able to put across the reasonableness of their case through the press and radio. After a fortnight, they won concessions from the government.

Choo, who was at home on maternity leave, pencilled through my draft statements, making them simple and clear. Over the years, she influenced my writing style. Now I write in short sentences, in the active voice. We gradually influenced each other’s ways and habits as we adjusted and accommodated each other.

We knew that we could not stay starry-eyed lovers all our lives; that life was an on-going challenge with new problems to resolve and manage. We had two more children, Wei Ling in 1955 and Hsien Yang in 1957. She brought them up to be well-behaved, polite, considerate and never to throw their weight as the prime minister’s children.

As a lawyer, she earned enough, to free me from worries about the future of our children. She saw the price I paid for not having mastered Mandarin when I was young. We decided to send all three children to Chinese kindergarten and schools.

She made sure they learned English and Malay well at home. Her nurturing has equipped them for life in a multi-lingual region. We never argued over the upbringing of our children, nor over financial matters. Our earnings and assets were jointly held.

We were each other’s confidant. She had simple pleasures. We would walk around the Istana gardens in the evening, and I hit golf balls to relax.

Later, when we had grandchildren, she would take them to feed the fish and the swans in the Istana ponds. Then we would swim. She was interested in her surroundings, for instance, that many bird varieties were pushed out by mynahs and crows eating up the insects and vegetation.

She discovered the curator of the gardens had cleared wild grasses and swing fogged for mosquitoes, killing off insects they fed on. She stopped this and the bird varieties returned. She surrounded the swimming pool with free flowering scented flowers and derived great pleasure smelling them as she swam. She knew each flower by its popular and botanical names. She had an enormous capacity for words.

She had majored in English literature at Raffles College and was a voracious reader, from Jane Austen to JRR Tolkien, from Thucydides’ “The Peloponnesian Wars” to Virgil’s “Aeneid”, to “The Oxford Companion to Food, and Seafood of Southeast Asia”, to “Roadside Trees of Malaya”, and Birds of Singapore”.

She helped me draft the Constitution of the PAP. For the inaugural meeting at Victoria Memorial Hall on 4 November 1954, she gathered the wives of the founder members to sew rosettes for those who were going on stage.

In my first election for Tanjong Pagar, our home in Oxley Road, became the HQ to assign cars provided by my supporters to ferry voters to the polling booth. She warned me that I could not trust my new found associates, the left-wing trade unionists led by Lim Chin Siong.

She was furious that he never sent their high school student helpers to canvass for me in Tanjong Pagar, yet demanded the use of cars provided by my supporters to ferry my Tanjong Pagar voters.

She had an uncanny ability to read the character of a person. She would sometimes warn me to be careful of certain persons; often, she turned out to be right. When we were about to join Malaysia, she told me that we would not succeed because the UMNO Malay leaders had such different lifestyles and because their politics were communally-based, on race and religion.

I replied that we had to make it work as there was no better choice. But she was right. We were asked to leave Malaysia before two years. When separation was imminent, Eddie Barker, as Law Minister, drew up the draft legislation for the separation.

But he did not include an undertaking by the Federation Government to guarantee the observance of the two water agreements between the PUB and the Johor state government. I asked Choo to include this. She drafted the undertaking as part of the constitutional amendment of the Federation of Malaysia Constitution itself. She was precise and meticulous in her choice of words.

The amendment statute was annexed to the Separation Agreement, which we then registered with the United Nations. The then Commonwealth Secretary Arthur Bottomley said that if other federations were to separate, he hoped they would do it as professionally as Singapore and Malaysia.

It was a compliment to Eddie’s and Choo’s professional skills. Each time Malaysian Malay leaders threatened to cut off our water supply, I was reassured that this clear and solemn international undertaking by the Malaysian government in its Constitution will get us a ruling by the UNSC (United Nations Security Council).

After her first stroke, she lost her left field of vision. This slowed down her reading. She learned to cope, reading with the help of a ruler. She swam every evening and kept fit. She continued to travel with me, and stayed active despite the stroke.

She stayed in touch with her family and old friends. She listened to her collection of CDs, mostly classical, plus some golden oldies. She jocularly divided her life into “before stroke” and “after stroke”, like BC and AD.

She was friendly and considerate to all associated with her. She would banter with her WSOs (woman security officers) and correct their English grammar and pronunciation in a friendly and cheerful way.

Her former WSOs visited her when she was at NNI. I thank them all. Her second stroke on 12 May 2008 was more disabling. I encouraged and cheered her on, helped by a magnificent team of doctors, surgeons, therapists and nurses.

Her nurses, WSOs and maids all grew fond of her because she was warm and considerate. When she coughed, she would take her small pillow to cover her mouth because she worried for them and did not want to infect them.

Her mind remained clear but her voice became weaker. When I kissed her on her cheek, she told me not to come too close to her in case I caught her pneumonia.

I assured her that the doctors did not think that was likely because I was active. When given some peaches in hospital, she asked the maid to take one home for my lunch. I was at the centre of her life.

On June 24, 2008, a CT scan revealed another bleed again on the right side of her brain. There was not much more that medicine or surgery could do except to keep her comfortable.

I brought her home on July 3, 2008. The doctors expected her to last a few weeks. She lived till October 2, 2 years and 3 months. She remained lucid. They gave time for me and my children to come to terms with the inevitable.

In the final few months, her faculties declined. She could not speak but her cognition remained. She looked forward to have me talk to her every evening. Her last wish she shared with me was to enjoin our children to have our ashes placed together, as we were in life.

The last two years of her life were the most difficult. She was bed-ridden after small successive strokes; she could not speak but she was still cognisant. Every night she would wait for me to sit by her to tell her of my day’s activities and to read her favourite poems. Then she would sleep.

I have precious memories of our 63 years together. Without her, I would be a different man, with a different life. She devoted herself to me and our children. She was always there when I needed her. She has lived a life full of warmth and meaning.

I should find solace at her 89 years of her life well lived. But at this moment of the final parting, my heart is heavy with sadness.

Lee Kuan Yew
October 6, 2010

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Yes We Can!

"If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.
"It's the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference.
"It's the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Latino, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of Red States and Blue States: we are, and always will be, the United States of America.
"It's the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.
"It's been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America.
"I just received a very gracious call from Senator McCain. He fought long and hard in this campaign, and he's fought even longer and harder for the country he loves. He has endured sacrifices for America that most of us cannot begin to imagine, and we are better off for the service rendered by this brave and selfless leader. I congratulate him and Governor Palin for all they have achieved, and I look forward to working with them to renew this nation's promise in the months ahead.
"I want to thank my partner in this journey, a man who campaigned from his heart and spoke for the men and women he grew up with on the streets of Scranton and rode with on that train home to Delaware, the Vice President-elect of the United States, Joe Biden.
"I would not be standing here tonight without the unyielding support of my best friend for the last 16 years, the rock of our family and the love of my life, our nation's next First Lady, Michelle Obama. Sasha and Malia, I love you both so much, and you have earned the new puppy that's coming with us to the White House. And while she's no longer with us, I know my grandmother is watching, along with the family that made me who I am. I miss them tonight, and know that my debt to them is beyond measure.
"To my campaign manager David Plouffe, my chief strategist David Axelrod, and the best campaign team ever assembled in the history of politics you made this happen, and I am forever grateful for what you've sacrificed to get it done.
"But above all, I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to it belongs to you.
"I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn't start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington it began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston.
"It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation's apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep; from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers; from the millions of Americans who volunteered, and organized, and proved that more than two centuries later, a government of the people, by the people and for the people has not perished from this Earth. This is your victory.
"I know you didn't do this just to win an election and I know you didn't do it for me. You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime, two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century.
"Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us. There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after their children fall asleep and wonder how they'll make the mortgage, or pay their doctor's bills, or save enough for college. There is new energy to harness and new jobs to be created; new schools to build and threats to meet and alliances to repair.
"The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you we as a people will get there. "There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won't agree with every decision or policy I make as president, and we know that government can't solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way it's been done in America for 221 years block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.
"What began twenty-one months ago in the depths of winter must not end on this autumn night. This victory alone is not the change we seek it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you.
"So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other. Let us remember that if this financial crisis taught us anything, it's that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people.
"Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share, and while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress. As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, 'We are not enemies, but friends though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection.' And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your president too.
"And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand. To those who would tear this world down we will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security we support you. And to all those who have wondered if America's beacon still burns as bright tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.
"For that is the true genius of America that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.
"This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that's on my mind tonight is about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. She's a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing -- Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old.
"She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn't vote for two reasons because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.
"And tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can.
"At a time when women's voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.
"When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.
"When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.
"She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that 'We Shall Overcome.' Yes we can.
"A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can.
"America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?
"This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:
"Yes we can. Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America."

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Excerpts from The Might of The Pen

"When all checks and balances have been removed in the administration of government, the general election is the last bastion of democracy and the final check and balance to those who abuse power. It is the time when power returns to the people who can kick out an unjust government in free and fair elections".

"The nominal economic growth, though far behind neighboring Singapore, has come at a great cost to Malaysia’s indigenous culture and dominant religious values. It has neither distributed the economic pie beyond a handful of greedy cronies nor lessened the racial and ethnic divide".

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Of Ants and Malaysians

Below, is an interesting e-mail that was forwarded to me. I can't help but draw parallels with our society today.

Original Version of 'The Tale of An Ant and A Grasshopper'

An ant worked hard in the sweltering heat all summer, building its nest and laying up supplies for the winter.

A grasshopper thought the ant was stupid not knowing how to enjoy life. It spent its days laughing, singing & dancing thoroughly enjoying the summer.

Came winter, the ant was warm, comfortable and had no shortage of food.

The grasshopper had no proper shelter, no stored food, and couldn't find anything to eat from the snow-covered ground. So it died and the story ended.


Current Version of the same tale.

An ant worked hard in the sweltering heat all summer, building its nest and laying up supplies for the winter.

A grasshopper thought the ant was stupid not knowing how to enjoy life. It spent its days laughing, singing & dancing thoroughly enjoying the summer.
Came winter, the shivering grasshopper called a press conference and demanded to know why the ant should be warm and well fed while he was cold and starving.

TV1, TV2 & TV3 showed up to provide pictures of the shivering grasshopper alongside to a video clip of the ant in his comfortable home with a table full of food.

The majority of the Malaysian Parliamentarians were stunned by the sharp contrast. How could this poor grasshopper be allowed to suffer?

Khairy staged a demonstration in front of the ant's nest.

Nazri went on a hunger strike along with other grasshoppers demanding that they be relocated to warmer climate area during winter.

The Malaysia Government immediately passed a law forbidding all ants from working hard in the summer so as to bring about equality of poverty between ants and grasshoppers.

Hishammudin increased 'More Special Reservations' for grasshoppers in Educational Institutions & in Government Services..

The ant was fined for failing to share 30% of his food with the grasshopper. The Prime Minister announced that this was part of the NEP. No ant should question it.

Many years later...

Some ant migrated to the US and set up multi-billion dollar companies there.

Hundreds of grasshoppers still died of starvation despite the 'More Special Reservations'.

Losing significant number of hard working ants and free loading the grasshoppers, Malaysia remained a developing country, despite its abundant natural resources.

All because the remaining ANTS were still doing their work .............................


Latest finding showed that almost all the grasshoppers in the political arena and civil service were hoarding corrupt wealth which they refused to share with fellow grasshoppers.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

The Last Lecture

"We cannot change the cards we are dealt,
Just the way we play the hand"


Professor Randolph Frederick Pausch
October 23rd 1960 - July 25th 2008

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

The Loss of Life, Perishing Values

I have never really been a great believer in the justice system, or politics for that matter. I do, however, believe that the only entity that is truly blind is death.

Yes, the Grim Reaper has no equal when it comes to equality. You can be rich or poor, young or old, good or evil, man or woman, black, yellow, brown or white, but if your times up, its curtains.

Take for example, a certain gentleman. Born Cheah Soon Leong, he was in his fourties. A quiet man, he was mild mannered and of good temperament. His was an examplary life, short on God given talent and average by todays exacting standards but long on the values that give it meaning. Nevertheless he made the most of his life. Never one to sulk or complain of life's injustices, he ploughed through the weariness of pulling long hours. He'd walk for miles each day, under the searing magma overhanging the backdrop of dust, dirt, bikes, cars and the rush of people crossing each other's path. His tolerance of suffering was stratospheric. Heck, the man was almost indefatigable.

Out of bed by 6am, in the little hours of daybreak, he would make his way through the city of Georgetown, bereft of the luxury of a motorised vehicle, powered by the quick shifts of his feet. Procuring kitchen groceries was the first order of the day. Never did he forget, on each excursion, the detour to the little coffee shop. Once there, he would fetch his mother a hearty meal to start the day. Whenever time permitted, he dedicated the sweat of his brow to sweeping temple floors clean, during what most of us would call leisure time. He was, above all, the most heplful person I have ever seen. If a fellow colleague was unable to do his or her shift, he would help them do it without hesitation. While most people would, at the very least, require some form of financial remuneration to even consider such a request, he declined any offer of payment as this was his brand of friendship. Help for helps sake. Friendship cannot be bought, he always thought. The fabric of comradeship, woven with sincerity, was always worn as the second skin upon his body; a permanent fixture. He was indeed a rare and vanishing breed.

First in, last out. He was the only person who needed no motivation to venture beyond the scope of his employment simply because he felt it ought to be done.
He would water the plants even on days when the premise was closed for business. Neatness is next to godliness. His crisp and orderly habits typified his persona. Before, during and after each shift, he would be the one clearing the trash, wiping the tables, mopping the floor and washing used forceps before they were sterilised.

And then it happened.

Without warning, a premature foreclosure, the life drained from his body in the little hours of May 14th 2008.

Alas, the life that breezed through each encumberance, was brought to a rude halt.

It started out on the morning of May 12th; a day, which, when it started, seemed like any other...or so he thought.

Just as he made his way across the road, a yellow bus, "Milan" emblazoned on its sides, charged recklessly into his path, crashing onto the right side of his body, the moment inertia generating a sickening crackle that toppled him, the thick tyres narrowly missing his face as he went under.

"Mum, I'm ok, don't worry. Everything is fine", he said, amid blaring sirens as the ambulance raced him to Penang General Hospital. Even as the words left his mouth, he could feel the pain and discomfort escalating. There was something amiss. Although oxygen was delivered to him at a generous rate of 10 litres per minute, he felt his limbs grow cold and each breath seemed more laboured than the one before it, almost as if all the oxygen in the world was not enough to saturate his blood with the elixir of life.

The attending doctor in casualty gazed intently at the O2 saturation monitor. 95%...92%....89%.. The freefall continued as the patient's heart galloped. 100beats per minute(bpm)....124bpm....133bpm... At this point, the alarm bells rang in the physician's head. With great haste, he drummed the middle finger of his right hand over his left as he traced his way downwards. "Shit!" he thought, as he stabbed a 16G cannula into Cheah Soon Leong's chest wall. Blood spewed into the syringe almost instantly. "Its a farkin hemothorax!"

Later in the evening, he was feeling much better. The chest tube, though occasionally painful and somewhat uncomfortable, had proved incisive in draining blood which was rapidly pooling around his right lung. He could speak comfortably now and his breathing eased as the day wore on. Night fell, and he found sleep at a premium, unaccustomed to new surroundings.

"Can't seem to pee", he muttered to himself. He felt queasy after breakfast but made nothing of it. His mother, now by his side, made it known to the nurses that her son was having trouble voiding his bladder and gently probed if a bladder catheter might help, to which, the nurse replied, " Mau kencing, berdiri dan buat sajalah. Apa susah-susah?". The fist sign was missed.

As the cool of evening wafted through the dense humidity, his mother noticed that her son looked pale and his lips looked dry. Worried, she duly informed the nurse.
In return, she got nothing more than a cursory glance over the shoulder.
The second sign was missed.

At 2am, now looking a ghostly shade of pale, more reminiscent of the dead than the living, he drew each breath with greater effort. His heart raced, as he neared the point of no return. Yet, even in distress, he said, " Mum, I'm allright. Don't worry, I'm feeling better. I'm not breathless". His mother, though, felt non the better. Surely something was wrong. She alerted the nurse, who returned with a mask and tubing. Oxygen was promptly delivered via a built-in oxygen socket. The oxygen saturation improved, the blood pressure held firm, and yet the tachycardia failed to register anything more than a yelp in the nurse's mind. Soon, she left him to resume her duties, lulled into false relief by an improved oxygen saturation. This was the last chance to save him, or perhaps it may have already been too late. Even then, it was tragically missed.

An hour later, Cheah Soon Leong gazed to the heavens as he grew limp. His head fell backwards as he sighed his last. The subsequent rush of people to try and 'save' him was nothing more than token effort, background noice in a soundtrack of missed opportunities, and it cost him his life.

A post mortem subsequently revealed contusions to both lungs and a liver laceration that was missed. The alarm bells were ringing for almost an entire day and they resounded with alacrity for at least 3 times but were not heeded. Where have we gone wrong? Is one simple life less deserving of proper nursing care and attention than that of a Tan Sri? What of the compassion and sensitivity required for such a calling?

It seems we have lost the plot.

The worst is not over. The bus which was driven with gay abandon was driven by a friend of the enlisted, read employed driver. The man responsible drove without the necessary documents. Eyewitnesses recount how a burly man was seen driving the bus whereas the subsequent police report states that the driver was a rather lean man who was employed by the company. To top it off, no representatives from the company visited Cheah Soon Leong while he was warded and neither was any 'pek kim' offered upon his demise. The nonchalant flouting of the law and the nerve to lodge a false report may indeed be sickening but the total lack of respect for life or the humility to ask for forgiveness is tantamount to murder. I have no doubt that it is not only possible but also very likely for the culprits to walk away scot free, hence the burning desire to bring to light the loss of this life and the perishing values of the world we live in today.

Written for and dedicated to,
Cheah Soon Leong,
Friend and Colleague

Cheah, you will be deeply missed!
I tip my glass to your simple life which has inspired mine.

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
Or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
In secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
But carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
Thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
Risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
So I love you because I know no other way than this:
Where I does not exist, nor you,
So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)