 |
|
SINGAPORE TREASURES
|
unusual stories, extraordinary memories, special encounters, just another unique day in Singapore
|
|
|
|
|
Your short story could be here. Submit your story for publishing
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Festivals of Singapore
Author: Nasreen Taher
As much as winning the first place in the global marathon of workaholics, the citizens are greatly involved in festivals concerning theological enhancement. Within a small area of 646 sq. kilometres and a 4 million population, the city excels in its multicultural transparency, under the banner of SINGAPOREAN—one single race , be it from any part of the world, East to West . However, certain festivals specialize in their traditional values and authenticity, having their roots stretching out from ancient Chinese civilization, of which Singaporeans bear their lineage of ancestry. Having some of my time as leisurely giveaways, I decided to frequent some of these special occasions in order to realize the laxmanrekha that culturally divides us though being such close continental - neighbours. More visible than the difference are the numbers of festivals that are celebrated. One of the first festivals that I attended with a friend is the Vesak or Wesak festival , which takes place on May.
(a) Wesak is the celebration of Buddha’s birth, enlightment and also his death. It is celebrated at the time of the full moon in May, covering a period of 5 days. Devotees pray and chant religious songs for the revitalization of humanity throughout the whole year. It seems similar to our Shab e Meraz and Shab e Barat, when prayers and recitation of the holy Quran are dedicated to bring prosperity for human beings throughout the year. The only difference was the way in which it was celebrated with decorative chariots in which the idol of Buddha was being driven all over.
(b)MID-AUTUMN FESTIVAL
Also known as MoonCake festival,it is held on the fullmoon of May every year. Farmers celebrate the end of the summer harvesting season admiring the bright mid-autumn moon while enjoying mooncakes and pomoloes (Chinese grapefruit ) with their families and praying for the fulfilment of wishes throughout the year. It is a thanksgiving occasion to the supreme deity for blessings showered from the heavens. While attending one such celebration with a neighbour I remembered the NOBANNO UTSAV of Bangladesh, when the first harvest is being celebrated by farmers while a variety of pithas enhance the occassion .
Also a legendary festival, it dates back to the time when the oppressive Mongols were overthrown by the Chinese . Leaders of the Chinese revolutionary groups distributed moon cakes, under the pretense of celebrating the Mongolian emperor’s longevity, to other Chinese people. The mooncakes held secret messages baked within , informing people to revolt on the 15th day of the 8th moon i.e. the 15th of August. The Chinese rebellion was a success and mooncakes have been thereafter kept as a national tradition of China till date. 
(c) THE HUNGRY GHOST FESTIVAL
It is a traditional Singaporean belief that the “dead” are resurrected every year. They try to roam around and enjoy, banishing anything that comes on their way. The HUNGRY GHOST FESTIVAL commemorates those souls whose burial has not been done properly or who had suffered during their deaths.
In the carefully- planned seating- arrangement during the festival for the hungry apparitions , the 1st row is always kept empty .One such festival was being held in our housing premises and the loud music enchanted me towards it with my utmost aspiration of running into some shadowy figure by any luck!
This festival is also known as the “Chinese Halloween “, due to its thematic aspect of spiritual homecoming. Living ancestors burn incense paper as an offering to the souls believed to be returning to what was “once their home” from the gates of Hell. The height of amazement reaches its peak to see some living ancestors burn their most valuable things e.g. cars, televisions etc to please away the tormented souls !
Standing on the queue of the first world countries, Singapore still resembles some of the ancient memoirs of civilization in terms of religious piety. This festival parallels the Mexican observance called “ El Dia de los Muertos” ---also known as ‘Day of the Dead’ or ’All Saints Day’ commemorating an ancient celebration of the Aztec civilization (1325-1521 A.D.) in honour of the goddess named Mictecacihuatl (Lady of the Dead) .
15 days after the Hungry Ghost festival, the living ancestors make water- lanterns by setting a lotus flower-shaped lantern on a paper boat, which is believed to redirect the apparitions back to their home of permanence in the other world. The smooth flowing of the lantern or boat assured us that the souls have rightfully found their ways back to their home of eternity. The dry-food collection remained for days on shaded porches to fill up the soul of any hungry ghost who may have failed to join.
No photographs could be taken of such an auspicious occasion,as shadows refuse to be imprisoned in light or camera !
Though we do not have ghost-festivals in Bangladesh, yet we do have occasional showdowns of directing out some evil apparition in order to cleanse and purge our soul and home. Unfortunately, they are never visible to common eyes except to those who are gifted with the privileged vision to experience ‘sight beyond sight’. These were only some of the special occasions experienced by myself and uptil then , I could not alienate my own culture as we have parallel occasions in our religion !
|
|
|
|
Past and future
Author: Anonymous
She has a faraway look in her eyes, distant and weary, yet the firm lines around her eyes betray her determination. We know that she has, by all means managed to venture beyond the predicted level of human understanding for her age. The age of rebellion, of severing ourselves abruptly from the roots we hold so dear. We also begin to comprehend that that look is familiar, that we too have been there before.
Most of us have, in one way or another take our inspirations from a special someone that has made a gigantic impact in our lives and like young children always do, that would usually be our parents.
Both her parents were architects and in her child’s eye pleasing them embodied the universe. She drew shaky forms of buildings that towered the skies and dream houses that ensured a privileged lifestyle.
We often think that those innocent and carefree days were the times we respected and embraced our roots most attentively only to realize further on that we were half-formed seedlings waiting to be influenced and shaped.
Then the hard times came, the need to grow up fast and hard, to adapt to the changing ways of the world she could never call her own. She could never recall the day her mother announced that they were living the country, to be thrust into a new world that was in everyway different and incomprehensible; she could only remember that that day ended in tears and brief farewells.
Like most teenagers, life was dictated by the ground rules set by society. The willingness to draw attention and the thrill of rebellion itself was the path to self-actualization and individualism.
What was truly the source of our inspiration then? The false, pale imitation of reality painted by the celebrities and the society that preached individualism which only resulted in painting swallow copies of each other.
Only time had proved that reality was grim and that she was striving only to be a part of the common stereotypes society predicted her to be.
How foolish she was then, molded by hate and overwhelming selfishness, to continue with no regard to those who have, time and time again proved to stay by her side no matter how much agony she had already inflicted.
She distinctively remembered her time in the local neighborhood Bedok Police Station, the fear that gnawed at her bones and the hands that held her while she cried. The terrible clarity dawned on her that her life, so far had been a waste when she could have done and amended so much more. That she was given an opportunity that she scorned so openly, crushing that dream of thousands back at home who would give anything to be presented with the opportunities presented to her.
Only then she could truly comprehend the undying love and steady patience her mother held. That while she too grieved, her mother too grieved for her the decisions made on impulsive decisions, never to be corrected again. Words cannot contain the depth of emotions that rendered her numb and feeling hopeless.
There are perhaps a thousand tales or even a million, of each individual’s stories, their trials and tribulations and how they moved on and the reasons for their inspirations.
But she did move on, still moving on and from time to time she thinks, ‘We always go back to our roots.’
She has a faraway look in her eyes, distant and weary, yet the firm lines around her eyes betray her determination. We know that that look is familiar, that we too have been there before. So we continually remember our roots, where we come from and that our inspirations are more like guidelines of what we are meant to be in the future.
|
|
|
|
Hunting for Crocodiles
Author: Anne Young
Packed from neck to toe in combat gear, and with large amounts of insect repellent in my backpack, I was ready to embark on my first hunting cum survival trip in Singapore. Yes, that’s right: Singapore! Besides shopping malls, HDB’s and condo’s Singapore does in fact have quite some wildlife. And wild it is. I had been told that it was even possible to spot real crocodiles. A month earlier one was actually caught wandering around a public park.
A sucker for excitement I had to go and see one for myself. So off I went, hunting for crocodiles.
 And for one I was going to do this the right way; not taking it easy by hailing a taxi, no I would go by MRT, bus and on foot. Just like the explorers in the old days. (Well, almost). I hopped onto the North-South line and got off at Kranji Station. There I frantically tried not to board one of the many buses bound for JB, but take the no. 925 to Kranji Reservoir instead. After endless rows of depressing industrial real estate and army base camps, we left the urban sprawl and entered what seemed to be ‘the nature zone’. Over enthusiastic I immediately got off at the next bus stop. A few too early, as it turned out … Hence, instead of in the mangrove swamp my hunting trail started there on the tarmac.
Miles later the Sungei Buloh Wetlands entrance came insight. In heavy need of some fluids I sighed with relief and bought a bottle of water. Rehydrated I could finally start my mission. And boy did it start out good! First thing I saw on the wooden bridge leading into the park was a big triangular signboard warning me for, you’ve guessed it, crocodiles. “Yes! it is true, they do exist here”, I thought.
Almost bursting from excitement and the sheer adrenaline rush, I ran across the wooden boardwalk into the mangrove swamp. With eyes in ‘eagle vision-mode’ I looked around so eagerly that after only 5 minutes my neck began to hurt. “Hey, not to worry”, I thought, “thank god and the Haw Par brothers for tiger balm”, which I had wisely put in my rucksack. (How can one survive any trail without it?). Up in arms again and smothered in tiger balm and insect repellent, the crocodile hunt continued.
An hour later and minus 3 litres of bodily fluids I was starting to be a bit disappointed. I mean surely, the wetlands are unique, the boardwalks and sandy walking trails are very well-appointed, and thanks to the continuous bleeping of my mobile phone “Welcome in Malaysia” (the park borders on the Strait of Johore, you can see JB on the other side) I really felt in a different world. However, apart from birds, squirrels, frogs and fish, I hadn’t spotted anything large and scary yet. Then I suddenly heard something swishing in the water. A long, scaly tail moved slowly through the muddy water. My heart skipped a beat and I fell flat on my stomach onto the sandy floor besides the water-front, as not to disturb the wildlife unfolding before my eyes.
The tail now moved into my direction. “Shit! What if it really is a …..”, I didn’t get to finish my thought, because then a giant reptile emerged and set foot ashore. I nearly fainted. But alas, a quick second glance taught me that the scaly, green monster was in fact a very big monitor lizard. Impressive nonetheless, but not the ruthless predator I came for.
Urgent need for a ‘sanitary department’, made me quit my mission. (For that moment at least) However, when walking towards the exit of the park, I suddenly realised that I actually had encountered many aggressive, bloodthirsty predators: Mosquitos. Believe me; don’t be fooled by the signboards. Of all the animals in Sungei Buloh it’s the mosquitos that really are the most dangerous!
From head to toe covered in big, red lumps, I returned to civilization.<
Links:
•Sungei Buloh Wetlands
•“Wandering crocodile spotted”
|
|
|
Blessed soul
Author: Rach
Today was a rare day for her. She started awake and glanced anxiously at the clock, then eased back under the covers when she saw it was barely past eight. At nine, the alarm clanged and she immediately banged the clock silent. She gave a morning call to the boyfriend and shuffled off to wash up and get dressed for breakfast.
As the vehicle cruised into the all-too-familiar setting, she was gripped of a silence. The familiarity, the peace and tranquil struck her. She knew deep in her heart she could always count on this place, where she had spent the dominant part of her 30 years, to find the much sought after comfort which seemed to be increasing absent from her life recently. And then she gaped at the massive edifice that boomed in her vision. The boyfriend explained "Cool right? The roof's damn nice.  It's the new block for Arts and Humanities or something." She nodded, for the structure was indeed impressive but she noted it did look out of place. The juxtaposition was odd, for the remaining buildings clearly looked like they had well withstood an age of handful of decades.
The library had its doors shut on Sundays; they retreated to the newly refunished Canteen A. Not a single stall was opened except MacDonalds, which was understandable keeping in mind the pathetic crowd on weekends which mostly comprises foreign students. In a way, it was good that the canteen operators were resting at home for it implied the canteen was relatively free of diners; and hence noise, although it did mean also that food, other then burgers, were pretty much out of reach. They settled down at a spot they used to occupy in their exam-study days and took out the books. The boyfriend had his notes and her, the library novels she recently borrowed. She was here for a multitude of reasons - to accompany the poor boyfriend, to relive the good old days, to re-capture the old joy, to uncover the new changes if any, and to idly pass her time away stress-free, although the first probably carried a lot more weightage in importance. Her mobile had almost died on her and she smiled to herself in amusement. They had already retreated to a place almost out of civilisation and the emptying battery meant she was clearly going to be cut from the rest of the world, it seemed. Oddly, it felt good.
Barely a quarter of an hour had passed and the boyfriend dismally declared of all things, he forgot his pencil case. It was plain mugging was handicapped by the absence of highlighters, pencils and erasers. She rose and offered to take a stroll to the mart at Canteen 2 to buy some. It had been a long time and although she would have whined and sulked in the past at the distance she had to walk to get there, this time, she actually wanted to take the walk. Along the way she crossed her fingers and prayed the remains of the chemical energy stored within the lithium-ion battery could last just for a few pictures. And apparently technology does not yet easily fail one's wishes. It did. She managed to capture, or rather, re-capture the images of her used-to-be second home. Not that she needed reminders anyway. The images were firmly etched deep in her heart, but still, she enjoyed the long stroll and the re-experiencing. Setting foot upon her alma mater cheered her considerably. Her heart ached, for longing. Some will understand. Many still loved the lives they led just a mere year ago. The people she had become acquainted with, and then grew to forge deep friendships with, certainly had all shared parts of their lives creating and indulging in joy.
She cursed when she saw the mart was closed on Sundays. Her fond memory of this place clearly wasn't as accurate as she thought. A good walk it had been, nonetheless. She sauntered back slowly to rejoin the boyfriend in his struggled mugging. A good afternoon was spent immersed in the re-enactment of the old times. It was well after six before the couple left to sought refuge for their growling tummies, but not before they turned into the place they met 3 years ago. She shook her head hard. The problem with her was she lived too much in the past. Tomorrow would be a new day, and it would begin with stepping into office. She knew to snap herself out of her dreamy world and braced herself for the next day. She had a beautiful chapter in her life and she knew she had another waiting for her. As long as her family remained bonded, the boyfriend by her side, and her treasured friends available, she knew she would still smile and declare herself a blessed soul.
|
|
|
|
Time off for Bangladeshis
Author: Nasreen Taher
On 15th March 2009, the BANGLADESHI community working in the Bangla school at TIONG BAHRU in Singapore, decided to take a day off to the greenery of Bukit Batok Nature Park. The idea was to have a picnic there and forget the daily schedule of work for at least one day. The routined life of every single day is a mental refuge against the ongoing dark events that are prevailing in our own motherland, as every single day seems to bring something bad for us when we go through the newspaper of our country through internet. Receiving a good news from homeland seems to be a thing of the past these days. However, as I was saying , we were out to the Nature Park of Bukit Batok for one day to enjoy and soothe our souls with the greenery of the forest. 
We arrived there at about 9a.m with all our things to prove that we were here to enjoy. No books, no pen, pencil or markers but the feeling of freedom amidst nature without the everyday humdrum of life was the only invisible thing that we took with us. The place chosen for outing was more than what nature could bestow upon us. It was a bright and sunny day, with leaves shining with their full glaze and at times even glaring daylight hit the eyes.The first thing that we did was serve the breakfast containing sandwiches, chapati and other delicious items .Then the time came for children to begin their fungames. Fullhearted and fullthroatedly, the children played and enjoyed every bit of their games .
About noontime, food arrived and we served in a queue. The food was delicious and the hunger made it tastier than the tastiest food on earth.
After a hot day, the sky darkened and within half an hour it started to pour down in torrents. We had to take refuge wherever we could find a shelter. We stayed and so did the rain for one and a half hour.
Our next item was DRESS AS YOU LIKE for the children. It proved to be a superhit ! It stole the show of the day with children coming up with various ideas of representing Bangladesh. We spent our time happily, yet we remembered the martyrs who were killed on the 26th of February on a soldier-mutiny back in Bangladesh. We prayed for the salvation of their departed souls, which left earlier than were appointed for.
Lastly, came the teachers and guests lucky draw. Many teachers won some wonderful gift items to take home .
Amidst the sorrow and the terror that reigned our souls, we, the people of Bangladeshi community here in Singapore enjoyed our day out in the Nature park to the brim of our hearts. It shall be a day to treasure in our hearts.
|
|
|
|
One more Wish granted
Author: Nasreen Taher
Quite often, when I feel that I have not achieved much in life and I desire for more, then I buckle up my thoughts and say to myself that things could have been different, I should just be happy that I am alive. . . a single event could have changed everything that day !
It was past Christmas time. We were returning to Singapore from California, USA on board a Boeing 707 , the best of its kind. The journey began nicely though flying high has never been one of my passions. As we went higher and higher, 57000ft or so , a quite uncomfortable feeling overshadowed my thoughts. I had this feeling of an impending doom. However, I tried to take my thoughts off it. I consoled myself by trying to remember that when I was younger, I too had a dream of becoming an airline pilot---but unfortunately, I failed to have a perfect vision which was discovered during my eye-test.
 A sudden feeling of going down some few feet brought me back to reality from the memory lane. Once again ! and again ! The aircraft was going down. Everything seemed too quiet. A voice from the cockpit reached my ears “Our hydraulic pressure is lost and therefore we are facing technical difficulties.” That was enough for me !
Suddenly, the aircraft was going down in double and triple speed. Each split of a second brought the thought of Death closer and made my heartbeat go faster. Captain’s voice of trying his utmost to reach Changi airport by “belly-landing” made us terror-stricken. All passengers were looking at each other --- for the first time, in amazement, I felt that I saw a harmony in the eyes of everyone, everyone seemed to relate to everyone else, as if ---if anything untoward took place, then each would come to another’s help, regardless of race or background.
I was having illusions of Death hastening on a chariot towards our aircraft. The captain’s announcement seemed to bubble through my ears as if coming from a hollow tube and all I could hear was that a second engine has started and……………..
Miraculously we landed safely at Changi airport in Singapore at the end of the journey. The convoy of ambulances moving parallel to our aircraft reminded me that we survived .
As we walked through the immigration, I felt so triumphant for the first time that we had all confronted death and realized the supreme power and existence of God. From that time onwards till date, I feel that-----One more wish of living through this life has been granted from Heavens. One more wish of enjoying this life has been granted for us all when everything almost came to an end. One more wish to live and tell the world what it is like to face Death and yet come back to life has been granted!
|
|
|
|
Romancing Singapore
Author: Tom - Singapore Short Stories
The Prime Minister of Singapore as well as the various ministers here have been encouraging Singaporeans to give birth, i.e procreate.
Procreation of Singaporeans, once again find itself on the top of the national agenda as Singapore’s birth rate seems to be tapering off, falling below the natural replacement rate.
So, Singaporeans must procreate else a declining population will spell social and economic problems in future to come.
When it comes to procreation, the natural chain of events which culminate in procreation is dating, marriage and then procreation. It is encouraging that the Ministry of Community, Youth and Sports is liberalizing the dating industry locally so that there are more dating agencies in Singapore offering a whale of a dating service to Singaporeans.
Single Singaporeans should have more opportunities to mingle with the single members of the opposite sex so that the probability of meeting his or her soul mate will be greatly increased! Dating is often, for most people, the first step to meeting someone special, someone who shares the same chemistry with you and whom you could walk the aisle together. The government’s move to liberalize and diversify the dating industry and scene in Singapore is a good move to boost marriage and ultimately, procreation.
|
|
|
|
At home in Bugis
Author: Ong Kian Hui
The sights and cacophony of colourful street artists plying their trade greet me the moment I step onto the bustling street. The aroma of delectable hawker fare immediately follows, wafting across the street, melding with the pungent incense and the roasted fragrance of chestnuts to form a uniquely characteristic scent. This is Waterloo Street, a street pulsating with the rhythm of life, a street where I feel like home. 
My parents introduced me to Waterloo street in Bugis when I was just six years of age to pay homage to the Chinese deities residing in the Kwan Imm Temple and pray for peace. Thereafter, I have made a myriad revisits to the temple as a student yearning for good results, as an executive wishing for career advancement and always as a Buddhist praying for peace and prosperity.
Since the preliminary visits to the temple, Bugis, resonating with its buzzing scores of interesting fixtures and activities, has beckoned me on. I have developed an affinity for Bugis, grown accustomed to its diverse groups of people and become assimilated to its distinct ‘culture’.
I could not exactly remember in details each of the countless visits I made to the scores of hawker centres there which offer mouth-watering treats at amazing good prices (till today), but one common thread through all the visits is the warmth of the stall owners. This warmth, coupled with the pleasant atmosphere of dining with friends certainly mirrors dining at home!
The National Library, at one corner of Bugis, is till today my favorite haunt since it opened. I could still recall the long laborious hours spent there revising my studies and preparing for the examinations around the corner. Used to be my ‘study room’, the library is now a knowledge hub for me as I bone up on various snippets of knowledge from its voluminous tomes for an enriching life.
Shopping malls, fixtures not to be missed during my trip down to Bugis are where friendships are cemented, woes are shared and time seems to fly during each shopping trip. I feel like home enjoying common things with friends at these malls: interaction, dining, patronising the shops and poring over the latest gadgets and fashion.
Over the years, new buildings have sprung up in Bugis but the warmth of home that Bugis exudes has stood the test of time. I feel at ease as at home in Bugis, having a wide array of choices I could do here: shop, eat, read, pray and simply relax !
As I grow to be part of the Bugis as it grows to be part of my life, I have forged an inextricable bond with the area. I am always home in Bugis for it is a repository of my precious memories, a place where people and things are ever so familiar to me, a place which has seen me through the various phases of my life, a place where common things are shared …. a place where I feel like home.
|
|
|
