Let’s just accept the fact that we all know what it looks like and that it is not. If you still want to pretend you’re Tony Hawk on YouTube without burning a hole in your wallet, check out the review to see why this baby is the best deal.
Introduction
Action clips are all the rage now. Cause you know, Instagram’s video is making toilet selfies too mainstream. You have to show the world that you’re hip and sporty, recording yourself jumping off a yacht or waving hi to Nemo. But if you try that with your DSLR or phone, you’ll end up with more than an iBend.
That’s how action cameras came into the market. The ‘tough camera’ category has been on the rise for a few years, giving the capability to take underwater selfies so that you can ‘check in’ at the pool. It lasts a few drops but you’ll still think twice before bringing it skydiving. Action cameras are the cockroaches of cameras - built to survive just about anything.
Why this particular camera?
- Inside the box
When you unbox the small package, you’ll be overwhelmed with what you’ll find (much like your Asian boyfriend). It includes every attachment you can think of, so much till I don’t even know what to call them. And since it has the same dimensions as its more famous twin, their mounts are cross compatible, allowing greater possibilities.
- Features
It’s very much like a point and shoot camera - switch it on and toggle through video, camera, playback and settings mode with all the basic features. With just four buttons, operation is as idiot-proof as it gets (though idiots always prove me otherwise). Most importantly, there’s a LCD screen to QC your selfies! For the more savvy, here’s a roundup:
•Field of view: 170 degree wide-angle fisheye
•Display: 1.5” LCD
•Storage: Up to 64GB micro SD, no built-in memory
•Frame rate: 1080p at 60fps
•Image sensor: 12 megapixel CMOS
•Waterproof: Up to 30m (with waterproof casing)
Design
Unlike the ‘pro’ counterpart, you can match this with your outfit as it comes in an assortment of colours. It is small enough for single right hand operation, as most guys would be adept at. Keep in mind that it's the waterproof housing that gives it its durability, so always use protection before you play.
Performance and Test Run
- Off-road
You have to play real life Tetris to fit the right attachments together for your intended use. There’s helmet mounts, clip-on mounts, and handlebar mounts, depending on your sport du jour. Some of them require you to mount it without its protective cover, and we all know what playing without protection leads to.
- Underwater
There’s no configuration needed when using it in different terrain - just switch it on and shoot. Other than for the important task of taking underwater selfies, this ability is highly useful for water sportsmen to take never-seen-before footages of them in action for review.
Being tougher than the average tough cam, this baby goes 30m deep, so yes you can take that selfie with Nemo. Audio is still surprisingly good underwater; if for some reason you decide to scream in your diving mask. Just like your equipment, remember to take off protection and clean it before repeated use.
From the footages and snapshots, the camera is indeed HD quality. Sometimes you do get some blurriness, but that’s more due to dirt/condensation on the lens instead of the inferior image processor. Audio is impressive, even in its casing, so you can hear all those testosterone grunts in all its full stereo glory.
Verdict
By the time you read this, the camera will be available for less than SGD150, making it a steal compared to any branded action camera. The cross-compatible accessories allow flexibility for whatever crazy stunts you can imagine. Maybe you might want to wait for the upcoming built-in Wi-Fi model, though even at this configuration, you’d be hard pressed not to skip a night of clubbing for that awesome shot.
Writer: M. Farhan Rais (@iisgHAN)
Farhan believes that if your boyfriend doesn't do sports, then you have a girlfriend. When not kindling his affairs with the gym and his mountain bike, he can be found wearing little at the pool, beach or Singapore's scenic fake water bodies. A tech geek at heart, he is easily tamed by offerings of hipster gourmet coffee.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wee Kim - 53, a bathhouse customer
Alan - 20, a bathhouse customer
[The roof of a bathhouse. Evening. A young boy, Alan is sitting on a bench, smoking. An old man, Wee Kim sit next to him. Silence. Wee Kim takes a few glances at Alan. Silence.]
Wee Kim: What time did you reach here?
Alan: [Silent]
Wee Kim: [Smiles to himself. Looks at Alan] You...
Alan: What time did I reach here. did I come here alone, what time am I leaving, where do I live, how many rounds already...
Wee Kim: [Startled] Sorry?
Alan: Try something new.
Wee Kim: I...
Alan: Be direct. You want to have sex is it?
Wee Kim: Are you asking me?
Alan: I'm asking for you.
Wee Kim: But I wasn't going to ask that.
Alan: Then?
Wee Kim: I wanted to ask for the time.
Alan: That's nice. But I don't have a watch.
Wee Kim: Which is why I asked what time you reached here.
Alan: I don't know.
Wee Kim: So do you...
Alan: No.
Wee Kim: You don't know what I'm going to ask.
Alan: Whatever it is, the answer is no.
Wee Kim: OK.
Alan: So?
Wee Kim: So... what?
Alan: Aren't you going to leave me alone?
Wee Kim: If that;s what you want me to do.
Alan: OK.
[Wee Kim is about to leave. But he turns around an addresses Alan again.]
Wee Kim: Sorry.
Alan: [Irritated] Yah?
Wee Kim: I didn't get your name.
Alan: Why would you want to know my name?
Wee Kim: I'm Wee Kim. [He extends his hand to Alan]
Alan: Alvin. [He doesn't shake Wee Kim's hand]
Wee Kim: Real name?
Alan: No.
[An attracted Young Man enters the space. He starts to walk around the area, casting glances at both Wee Kim and Alan. Wee Kim smiles at him. Alan tries to look nonchalant. The Young Man leaves.]
Wee Kim: How old are you?
Alan: Look, I'm old enough to be your son, OK?
Wee Kim: You mean I'm old enough to be your father.
Alan: I'm really not into dirty old man. Please.
Wee Kim: That's good.
Alan: I mean it.
Wee Kim: I'm an old man. Sure. I'm 52. But where did the dirty part come from?
Alan: The only reason the management lets people like you in is because you have to ay higher prices than all of us. You walk around, trying to grope the people in the dark rooms. You take up the space in the cubicles for sleeping because you can't get anyone, and please don't deny it beceause I can hear all the snoring.
Wee Kim: Actually, it's my first time here.
Alan: You should make it your last.
Wee Kim: I don't know. The people here have too much attitude.
Alan: Please. It's something else if you looked like that guy just now.
Wee Kim: You like him? He's your type?
Alan: Why would you care if he's my type?
Wee Kim: He is, right?
Alan: Look. I'm 20. By definition that's young. You were young too. And you had your time. Now it's my time.
Wee Kim: If I told you that the boy looked like me when I was young, would you believe me?
Alan: You're asking me to imagine.
Wee Kim: Yes.
Alan: I didn't pay 10 dollars to come here to imagine. If something is there, it's there. If it's not, it's not.
Wee Kim: I had my time.
Alan: Yes.
Wee Kim: But during my time we didn't have places like these.
Alan: And is that my fault?
Wee Kim: Why do you sound so angry?
Alan: Because you don't seem to get the idea. As long as you're hanging around, nobody's going to come up to me. You saw that guy just now. He walked around, then he left.
Wee Kim: So why don't you go after him?
Alan: I don't do the chasing here.
Wee Kim: Well, you should pretend to chase him. And if he responds, you can pretend nothing happened. And then you let him chase you.
Alan: I know what I'm doing.
Wee Kim: You've all lost the art of playing the game.
Alan: Who?
Wee Kim: Your generation.
Alan: I don't like games where people don't understand what a 'no' means.
Wee Kim: During my time, we knew how to flirt.
Alan: You said there weren't places like these.
Wee Kim: Of course there weren't. But we had Pebble Bar. Treetops. At hotels along Orchard Road. A lot of Ang Moh's. They'd give us money and presents. At that time if you were gay, you could either be those at kwa's on Bugis Street, or you could be one of those boys at Orchard Road, who were more Westernised, who could speak English. They called us the Orchard Road Queens.
Alan: But being gay doesn't mean you have to be a queen.
Wee Kim: At that time, how we know? We just did whatever was the attractive in the eyes of the Ang Moh's. Shaved our legs. We went tanning. They liked dark-skinned boys. You know how much some of us can earn in one month? $200. That was a lot of money.
Alan: So, what, you all started out like some kind of... male prostitutes?
Wee Kim: The money was just a bonus. But we enjoyed what we were doing. And then later, in the 80s, there was Hong Lim Park, Fort Road. But at that time I wasn't too active. I got married. Got one son. And then my wife died.
Alan: Go and write a book.
Wee Kim: At that time, 30 already, not married, you just invite people to gossip. So, what to do, my Mother chose the bride, I just followed. Last time not like now. Cannot argue with your parents. Last time we respected people older than us.
Alan: Just because you respect people doesn't mean you have to sleep with them!
Wee Kim: I never asked if I could sleep with you.
Alan: Then why did you come up to me for?
Wee Kim: I just wanted to talk.
Alan: But at the end of the day, you're just going to ask me to go into some cubicle with you, right? But let me tell you something. My generation has self-respect. We don't have to package ourselves for any Ang Moh's. You can flash $200 in front of my face right now and I still won't sleep with you.
Wee Kim: Why are you getting so angry?
Alan: This is a spa. Everyone is here for sex. Nobody comes here just for the chance to walk around in towels, because you can do that at home! Don't give me that bullshit about getting to know me better, asking me the time, because I've heard it all already.
Wee Kim: So you're saying I'm not allowed to come here to talk to people?
Alan: I'm really wasting my time with you.
Wee Kim: So you're here just to look for sex?
Alan: If you really want to hear it, yes. Like that guy over there who;s been staring at you for the last few minutes.
Wee Kim: [Looks at where Alan is looking] He's looking at you.
Alan: No. Please. He's your age. He's staring at you.
Wee Kim: No, really. See? He's trying to smile at you.
Alan: Oh my God. Thanks to you I've now become a magnet for uncles.
Wee Kim: He just wants to talk to you.
Alan: I think talking to one uncle in one night is enough for me.
[Alan stands up to leave. He adjusts his towel.]
Wee Kim: Don't you want anything more?
Alan: More than what?
Wee Kim: Than sex.
Alan: Like what?
Wee Kim: You tell me. It's 30 years since I had my first encounter with another man. This Ang Moh tourist. In a hotel. I felt something for him. I even felt like going back to where he lived, but I knew he wouldn't ask me. It seemed at that time that if you wanted to follow your heart, you had to follow it to some other country. So the only thing we could have that was closest to a relationship was sex. It doesn't take long. Just one night. Because the next day they'll be gone.
[The attractive Young Man appears again. This time, Alan moves away from Wee Kim and parks himself at another spot. The young man cruises Alan, and then walks towards Wee Kim. He smiles at Wee Kim, and then he gestures to Wee Kim to indicate that he will be waiting 'downstairs'. The Young Man leaves.]
Alan: I don't believe this.
Wee Kim: It's been 30 years. And what has changed? Now you have places like this. It's so much easier to meet people like yourself. You deserve better. You have every right to demand something more than a one-night-stand.
Alan: Can you please stop talking?
Wee Kim: You don't like to hear what I'm saying.
Alan: I don't like to listen to you, and I don't like to look at you. Don't you understand? 30 years. 30 years from now and I'll be just like you.
Wee Kim: And you're scared of that?
Alan: An old man in a sauna? What kind of fate is that? Where's the dignity? And I see myself like this one day, wrapped in a towel, my stomach sticking out, a bald patch on my head, wrinkles... and liver spots... looking at all the young ones, my hands crawling near to them, begging for a chance...
Wee Kim: It doesn't have to be that way. You could settle down with someone.
Alan: Sometimes when I look at old men like you walking around me, I tell myself I want to die before I'm 40.
[The attractive Young Man appears. He looks at Wee Kim.]
Wee Kim: Five minutes and I'll join you, OK?
[The Young Man leaves.]
Alan: How much did you pay him?
Wee Kim: I just paid for his entrance.
Alan: 10 dollars? He must be pretty desperate.
Wee Kim: I pay for a lot of other things too. His school fees, his clothes, his food.
Alan: You're lucky then. You have money to support a young boy. But what if I get old, and earn barely enough to support myself? How do I find a lover young enough to make me forget how old I've become?
Wee Kim: Oh, that boy isn't my lover.
Alan: He's not?
Wee Kim: My lover is actually the other guy who smiled at you. We've been together for about 20 years now. I met him a year after my wife passed away.
Alan: And the boy?
Wee Kim: I told you my wife gave birth to a boy. That's him. Me and my lover raised him together. He's our son. Of course we never expected him to turn out gay. But since he did, so be it.
Alan: Your son?
Wee Kim: His name's Edwin. We're pretty proud of him. He entered OCS just last month. It was his idea to come here actually. As a kind of family outing. He's never been to such a place before.
Alan: I don't believe this. A family outing.
Wee Kim: Edwin's a bit shy. So just now he asked me to come and talk to you. You see, while you're here looking for your one-night-stand, I was here looking for a son-in-law. But you're right. This isn't the best place to look for someone to settle down with.
Alan: So you were going to introduce me to your son?
[The attractive Young Man appears.]
Young Man: Pa. Uncle Heng has dressed up already. He's waiting downstairs. he wants to take us for supper.
Wee Kim: I'm coming.
Alan: Wait, wait. [Pause] Can I give you my number?
Wee Kim: What for?
Alan: I know I might look really desperate now, but I didn't know where you were coming from, and...
Wee Kim: It's all right.
Alan: I'd never met a gay family before.
Wee Kim: [Smiles] You have all the time in the world to make your own. You're still young. [Turns to leave] It's nice meeting you. [Pause] Alvin.
[Alan watches Wee Kim leave. Alan sighs. He lights up a cigarette.]
Virgin experience writing a product review! Wrote half of it in deprivation during ICT, so the result is rather... amusing. Even if you don't care about the product, the review is still a worthwhile read. Check out the original article here:
Its been a while since we last reviewed a running gear and so here we are pounding the trails just to get you in the know of NewBalance's latest trail running shoe - the FreshFoam 980 Trail (S$169)! But should you trade in your running shoes for one of these? Read more to find out.
Pounding the pavement sometimes leaves you with smoke in the face, given Singapore’s traffic. And going round the track or staying on the treadmill reminds me too much of my dead hamster (that poor soul). Or if you’re like me, bound to the water, I have little business being out of my element. Except to take $400 from the government for the yearly IPPT.
Okay, I lied. I hit the track every other night with tears streaming in my wake cause it helps keep the weight down. If any of these sounds familiar to you (if it is, I’m totally judging), then you probably need an exciting alternative to keep you on your feet.
Why this particular pair?
Introducing trail running - taking the age-old familiar sport off the road onto all new terrain. Trail running offers a more scenic alternative, allowing you to enjoy Singapore’s many parks and park connectors. The change in terrain would also mean that you would need shoes that are better suited for it.
This pair is designed exactly for that. Right out of the box, which looks like you excavated it out from MacRitchie, you’ll find an insert that offers some tips and suggestions on the trails to explore in Singapore.
Comfort and Fit
Putting it on, you can immediately tell why it falls under the ‘maximal’ category, contrasting from the ‘minimal’ a la Vibram FiveFingers. Other than the very visible sole, the Trail version packs more cushioning so inserting your foot into it feels snug and tight.
Feel and Touch
The ‘Fresh Foam’ midsole aims at providing superior comfort. Just take a step, and you’ll feel that bounce. Oh the bounce! Brings to mind some lewd images. What this wonderful bounce gives you is a soft and supple (oh the puns) feel regardless of the terrain, making the transition between road and trail feel seamless.
Design
Typically full cushioned shoes appear big (that’s what she said) due to the bottom support. The shoe has abundant sexy curves - convex hexagon at the heel with a concave mid foot, which helps maintain the bouncy cushioned movement. All that is packed in a surprisingly small package (that’s not what she said) with loud, luminous colours that will match your Illumi Run outfit perfectly.
Performance and Test Run
The recent opening of Jurong Eco Park was a perfect opportunity to test out the shoes. Straight out the door, I can feel the added support, which is important for people like me with leg injuries. To test it's capabilities off road, I took it to some lesser-known dirt tracks that fellow infantrymen would be familiar with.
At first I was a bit apprehensive about the traction, but the ridged studded bottom fared rather well on wet grass and mud. Splashing into puddles is also fine, as the upper meshing drains fairly quickly. All that padding does mean that it isn't as airy as those ultra light shoes, so it gets a little stuffy beyond mid-distance. Marching back, I wish these came in combat versions as standard SAF issue.
Verdict
Living in an iconic garden city, it would be a waste not to explore the greenery that's behind every corner. There's no better way to do that than with FreshFoam 980 Trail that's the right tool for the job. If you're looking for subtle, maybe the colours are a bit loud. Though it's a good safety feature as you explore the dark trails at night. Unless you're... Never mind.
Available at all New Balance Concept Stores and selected authorized retailers.
Writer: M. Farhan Rais (@iisgHAN)
Farhan believes that if your boyfriend doesn't do sports, then you have a girlfriend. When not kindling his affairs with the gym and his mountain bike, he can be found wearing little at the pool, beach or Singapore's scenic fake water bodies. A tech geek at heart, he is easily tamed by offerings of hipster gourmet coffee.
Not letting the lack of a date ruin Valentine's day, I shamelessly made a reservation for one at a Japanese restaurant that I've been wanting to check out. I was prepared to be consigned to some dark corner but surprisingly the kind waitress assigned a whole table for four all to myself. Perhaps with all the couple reservations, the larger tables were left empty for once.
This isn't a food blog, so I'm not reviewing the place, but suffice to say that the assortment from the a la carte buffet kept me beaming. So there I was, sitting happily with plates of sashimi, waiting to be blasted by the amorous vibes in the air and peek at some under table action. But it never came.
Instead as I looked around, the couples were seemingly underwhelming. They appeared more interested in the menu and tapping away on their smartphones. They can't all be those socially awkward couples who text each other on dates. It's one thing to be using your phone among your friends, but to do that in a one on one setting is just putting 'uninterested' in neon.
The real happy people were the families. Maybe mummy and daddy wanted to reminisce their dating days and pretended that the kids were really annoying cupids. And the odd tables for one, of which I wasn't the only one. We gave each other the polite nod, but none approach each other cause we were all giving the 'I'm here to enjoy my quiet dinner, don't make it awkward' look.
That got me thinking if it's necessary to have a significant other to be happy. It clearly wasn't working for the case study I observed. Then what really is the point of a relationship.
I can say that I had a lovely Valentine's day - spent at one of my favourite places, working and doing the things I love, eating my favourite foods, and texting to friends I care about to catch up (probably triggered by my interesting Instagram post). It even ended with a nice dessert (that's a story for another day, and kind of goes against my point of solo pleasure, pun intended).
So to all couples out there, I hope you find happiness with your better half. Else I'm not sure what's the point. And to my future significant other, I hope you are just as happy as I am. Cause I'm not sacrificing mine for yours, and if we were to be together we better bring something more to the table.
It was the day of the dragon boat PM Cup. I was only there to support the canoeists (yeah, funny story) and of course, the eye candy. They did well, but it was the db guys who we were really looking out for. They’ve trained hard to take back what was once theirs. From the start they had a good lead. But alas, at the literal last second, the reigning champion NUS burst forth to take home the title.
The race was incontestably fair, and everybody bore witness to the reason that made the champions who they are. But these db guys has put in no less effort. Whatever little that made them lost was unfathomable to them. And it shows on their faces.
The db guys are easily the most intimidating bunch in school. To see these behemoths openly crying seems like a distortion in the world. And to know the story behind it, you can’t help but feel their heart-wrenching pain.
Tears were spilled in a solemn exchange of words and shaking of hands by the entire team. Coach asked me to join in, so I found myself in an awkward position. Nonetheless, with every hand I shook I felt the tremor of conviction and the genuine quiver of disappointment.
At the end of it, the juniors were told to remember - the taste of defeat and the sniff of victory when they were that close. For there will be a next time for some of them, and training for it will start tomorrow. There are some poisonous words for athletes, one of them being 365 days left till the next competition. One day less is one day closer, if you’re not training for it your opponent will. And you never end a competition saying you’ll train harder. You’ve trained as hard as you can this time and likewise for every competition.
All these reminds me of my own battle in lifesaving, how we’re picking up the pieces year in and out. I miss making every competition matter, having gave it my all and putting all I’ve got on the line. I miss having a team that matters with me.
During NS in unit, there was a dilemma at the start with the men. How do you make people with nothing to lose follow you for a common cause? Eventually, I learnt that people with nothing to lose will always lose.
So I gave my men something.
I gave them a section that bonded, I gave them whatever care I could blanket them with and I gave them what little knowledge I had. I gave them my all. And in return, they showed me unnerving loyalty.
“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.”
So at the end of nationals I won’t be the one saying well done, good job. At the end and beginning of the next, I will apologise.
Once upon a time, I wrote. Spun tales, mock idiosyncrasies. And there was joy in the world, I felt human.
Then life has a knack of making one forget, pandemonium broke loose. Life went up and down, down to the deepest caverns beyond light’s reach. Where layers after layers get stripped off and you don’t know what you’re left with. All around there was only sorrow.
At the bottom, the only way is back up.
So I write as a memento mori - to remember the face of my father, and in memory of a comrade who left tragically. I write to remember who I was, who I am and who I will be.
The pages of Norwegian Wood was slightly damp
due to the rain it endured. Yet its pages still enthralled me with Haruki
Murakami's story that I would briefly summarise as about sex and suicide. It
wasn't much but it provided much needed amusement for me and the bunch of
testosterone-overloaded and deprived men that I narrated to. Once again I lay
on the sponge mattress after more than a week to fully enjoy the novel. That morning
was the end of a long exercise that marked the end of blazing 40 degrees sun
and midnight marches. I had my reservations about the performance of my
trainees for the last mission, but I shrugged it off to allow them a moment of
peace. The chapter started with the suicide of its protagonist's love interest. Then I got the call.
It was from a blocked number, so I had no idea
where it originated. Initially all I could hear was static. Then there was loud
sobbing in the background before the caller hung up. That was it. I was left
puzzled by the call. I got a sudden chill as the snippet of noise eerily
conjured a horrid image of a mourning crowd in my mind. I quickly brushed away
the image to get back to my protagonist's sorrows.
Again, the phone rang. The reception from 6472
kilometres away was poor, but I could faintly discern that the sobbing was from
my mother, among others. Through her cries, I made out one clear statement -
“Farhan, ayah baru meninggal.” She carried on with disjointed accounts of how it
led up to the incident. Frustrated with the distorted speech, I asked her to
pass the phone to my sister. All I got from her was a verification of the
incident. Without much thought, I let them hang up.
There was nothing but the silence of resting
bodies and the air of satisfaction over the exercise's completion around me. My
hand trembled, my heart raced, but my mind remained clear. Nothing at all. I
checked the time on my watch. It would be around 6.30am where she called me
from. I let the thought of a cool dawn breeze wash over me. Nothing happened,
only a short call in the middle of a perfectly quiet morning.
Then it hit me.
- retrieve last call - establish point of
contact - take down details - inform superiors - make travel arrangements -
check flight timings - calculate transfer costs - pack all luggage - sort hand
carry - check local relatives - recall insurance coverage - contact travel
agency - laundry being washed - assessment sheet unfilled - call credit balance
-
A torrent of thoughts drowning me like a
tsunami. My own mind, the tool that allows me to work with ruthless, organised
efficiency is playing itself out. Mental notes were being taken, calculations
were processed and thoughts were reorganised. I let my mind do what it does
best, but my conscience lay in wait. Where was the sadness, the sorrow, the
breaking down as realisation sinks in? Was I still stuck in the first stage of
grief? I'm not even in the country and my father just died overseas for God's
sake! But none of that came. All that I could think of were these mundane
thoughts making their own way through my mind. On the way to the canteen, I
tweeted - 'What are you supposed to think about when someone close dies?'.
Before, I ever wondered how I would be like when someone close dies. Would my
cold, ruthless self remain or would a shred of humanity make an appearance. Now
I know.
Facing my colleagues was a slight challenge. It
became tiring to keep up the jumpy, bitchy facade. Remaining composed was the
most I could put up without dropping to the coldness underneath. One of them
followed me on my way to pack my things. He praised my strength and offered me
a prayer. The moment he touched me I felt my walls crumble and the hard
exterior cracked. I hate those pure of heart and clear conscience, they strip
me and leave me nothing but human. I quickly tried to disengage him, but not
before my eyes watered and I caught a glimpse of the hollowness within me.
070611 1800hrs – Bangkok
City, Thailand
From a distance, the Bangkok Mega Bridge was a
sight to behold. Its supporting columns look like sky-reaching solitary towers,
making your awe disregard its purpose and massiveness. Only when we approached
the structure did I realise that it was in fact a bridge. Passing through this
manmade beauty, I suddenly whimpered and my vision blurred. As soon as it came
it was gone. This was one of several brief outbursts that occurred throughout
the journey to the airport. Initially, the duty clerk accompanying me was
visibly disturbed, but he knew better than to ask.
The first and only song that came to mind was this:
Do you feel cold and lost in
desperation? You build up hope, but failure’s all
you’ve known. Remember all the sadness and frustration. And let it go. Let it go.
Perhaps I was still in denial, but I never
conveyed the news directly to any friends or relatives back home. Whoever knew
probably picked up that fact from my usual ambiguous rant on Twitter or from
the condolences on my Facebook page. Strangely, it was cheaper and more
convenient to use the internet than to call overseas, hence social networking
became the natural choice. Besides, I needed to burn off the prepaid credits.
The mocha I was sipping at the airport Starbucks seemed to have lost its
flavour. Only then did I realise that I
skipped lunch due to the hussle back in camp. I waved to the barista to heat up
a chocolate muffin. Flashing a smile in return, she brought it over since there
was no other customer to attend to. Before heading for the boarding gate, I
went to perform the evening prayer. As the unnaturally cold water flowed over
my hands, my body moved by itself to perform ablution. After the salam at the
end of the prayer, my vision blurred. With a deep breath, I turned to face the
other people praying and my eyes became clear again.
070611 1543hrs – Mecca, Saudi Arabia
The town went still. The call to prayer from
the Grand Mosque echoed into the horizon signalling the afternoon prayer.
Everything would halt as the city would pray in unison, regardless of where
they were and what they were doing. This was the scene from my memory of the
holy city of Mecca twelve years ago, and it would probably be the same now. At
the Ka’bah, at the centre of the Grand Mosque where all Muslims pray towards, a
more solemn occasion would begin after the daily prayer. It was not an uncommon
sight, but today from 7268 kilometres away I was there in spirit. Upon the
Ka’bah, at the center of the religion of Islam, by the footprints of the
Prophet, lay the body of my father.
080611 0025hrs – Changi Airport, Singapore
There were some close friends waiting for me at
the airport. I couldn’t be bothered to start a domestic drama by calling a
relative. They probably didn’t know I was back in Singapore. Talking to my
friends, everything seemed normal again. We went for supper and everything was
perfectly fine. It was like that for the next week, going out with friends and
going about my everyday life. There was no crying mother or a hoard of
relatives at home. I kept the house in my preferred clinical sanitary condition
and looked through the insurance papers with a morbid curiousity. Other than
the occasional calls chasing for the death certificate, it would have been
nothing more than a quiet week all by myself.
090611 1945hrs – Tahlil, aunt’s home
Every Thursday night, it was religiously
customary to recite the Ya Sin, the 36th chapter of the Qur’an. That
evening, the paternal relatives had a small gathering for a remembrance
ceremony. There was an awkward moment as they greeted me, as if they were
expecting a dramatic breakdown or profound sorrow in my eyes. The whole scene
looked like a set up, with soft casual conversations and the aroma of food. I
was half expecting hidden cameras and somebody to pop out to declare that it
was all a big prank. I returned their greetings with the traditional handshake
and a curt nod. They gifted the Ya Sin, Al-Fateha and a prayer and as all Malay
gatherings go, proceeded with a hearty meal.
I was never much of a believer, prefering the
agnostic view, contrary to my religious upbringing. When the ceremony started
however, I felt a stirring from within. The Arabic words rolled off my tongue
and I used the book only as a reminder. It was akin to how the Prophet received
the first word of the Qur’an. “Iqra, speak!”, said Gabriel, and the Prophet
spoke the first verse of the Qur’an. Perhaps this was what it meant to be as a
disbeliever yet an instrument of God. Always having the curiousity to doubt,
without the wisdom to clear them. But entrenched deep within is the knowledge
and muscle memory of the religion. I recited the Ya Sin smoothly, as if it was
only yesterday that I last read it. So this was what the religious scholars
meant when they refer to the true form of the Qur’an. Not in print, nor in the
words spoken, but in its very definition – the Recital, with meaning coming
from within the very essence of your soul.
If I was asked to deliver a eulogy that night,
I would have been dumbfounded. What would I say about a man I hardly knew. I
have nothing against my family, especially my father, just that we were never
close and he was a particularly quiet man. I make it a point in life not to
live with regrets, always looking forward. But I know that in the corner of my
mind was the desire to know the person who brought me up. In a fantasy that I
recall, I was resting my head by my father’s side on his deathbed, and he would
tell me about life growing up at the kampong, what he was like when he was a
teenager and how he got to know my mother. As I sat in front of the lake
writing this, I half-wished that the scene would play out in the reflection of
the water. But I know this would never be, and my tears would only dry up,
leaving the whole bittersweet scene as nothing but a figment of my imagination.
So here I am in Singapore, sitting by the lake
with the moon reflecting off the water, after having rushed a week ago from
Thailand, and the rest of my family still in Saudi Arabia. In a tale of three
cities, I offer to end with what some might call a prayer, but others a plea.
In
the name of God, most gracious, most merciful.
Dear
God, accept me for my sins. It is by your will that I came to be and to you I
will return. I may turn away from you but you are regardless a living presence
in the core of my being. I will always be an instrument of your will, the hand
of God. I do not expect fairness from this world but taking my father back is
still cruel. If you declare that it is his time, I can do nothing but accept. As
how we welcome new birth, we must accept death. It is with thanks that you take
him back in the most perfect of conditions. Thank you for inviting him to your
holy city three times. Thank you for allowing him to share in the footsteps of
the Prophet. Thank you for giving him a resting place among the holy. He is
yours to take back, but I ask that you keep him with you among respectable
company, at the highest of thrones. I ask that you wash him free from sins and
let him watch over me. Until it is my time to return and await your judgement.
When I awoke on 10 January last year, I awoke to a bunk full of strangers and an even stranger surrounding. I've just been robbed of my civilian freedom and thrust into the confined of National Service. More than a year later I awake to yet a different ceiling, a strange new surrounding, the same differences but a pleasant role reversal. This time the old camou uniforms have been swapped with snazzy pixelised ones adorned with ranks and badges, no longer stowed offshore but still at the fringes of civilisation and the lecturer whining about bunk layout is me.
How much yet little things have hanged since I lacked all that hair. Pity I did not pen down the whirlwind of events, though my comrades would agree that donning the uniform stifles personal thoughts. 2009 has seen me swap ranks from white to black to white again, before concluding with my long overdue stripes. Bouncing between combat and support side has given me ample insight into the organisation. To pick a highlight of the year, nothing tops the two shopping sprees in Taipei. Oh, right, and of course the invaluable friendships forged through the sheesha haze and earthquakes while balancing on the edge of a mountain. And there's this leech I can't quite shake off.
After one year down the rollercoaster, it had now become my turn to put others through the ride. Since my ride has lasted longer than most, my twists and turns are about to end. Not before one last big jolt apparently. Regardless, now I have a bunch of young lads to gear up and teach how go hold their stomachs through the upcoming loop de loop. I'm just hoping what I have to offer gives then a good ride instead of their lunch on their laps.
As for this blog, I have consulted with Rafahn and we have both agreed to get this act together. Sure there won't be exciting weekday skives to gleefully report about, but if life throws you a bunch of bullets, you throw a bucketload of mortar rounds back. So despite how dull life in service might be, I will dutifully pen them here in the most entertainingly exaggerated way that I can.
Once again I awake from my 7 hours of uninterrupted rest. The ceiling might be new, but it is one that I have come to place ownership upon. One that many after me will stare at, with apprehension then acceptance.
