There are things that one will never be able to understand without having to experience it. We were born into this world, divine like an angel, light as a snow flake and pure as the clearest spring water. We grow up into the little princess of Wales and the daughter of nobody in Calcutta. Who flips the coin?

Have you ever seen the other side of the world, the one which is full of dark hollow streets, bitter tears and disappointment, walking human with empty mind and soul? A line has been sketched clumsily dividing the two worlds, everyone calls it ‘an invisible line’, but somehow it seems rather conspicuous, isn’t it?

Where do these 2 worlds come from? Within or without?

People are curious to get a glimpse of the other side of the world; after all, seeing doesn’t hurt, does it? But little do they know that ‘without’ is just a few inches away from ‘within’. That is the beauty and also the agony of the mind.

‘The Art of Happiness’, an international bestseller, says that ‘(happy people) are found to be more loving and forgiving than unhappy people.’ Movies and drama series depict happy people loving, losing, forgiving and then becoming unhappy for the rest of their lives.

We have a choice no matter what the circumstance may be. Perhaps, everyone blames life to be unfair at least once in their life. But isn’t life a lot about ‘gives’ and ‘takes’? John told me once that it’s a joy being at the receiving end but it’s hundred times better being at the giving end, be it loving someone, helping a friend, curing a patient or giving a coin to a street performer.

Nothing is perfect but everything could be as perfect as one wants it to be. Maybe, I’m lucky to have been able to understand life a little bit better, knowing the sincerity as well as the shadiness that everyone’s soul is capable of. At the end of the journey, I’m thankful that there’s always somebody understanding and appreciating the way I am without ever questioning, and being there for me with the brightest and most assuring smile to brighten up my days. That’s when I know life could be the way we choose it to be, that’s where I find my happiness.

I wrote this poem, for noone in particular, just a feeling that passed through my heart (or my brain?)


If I had a little bit more time,
I would collect all the falling leaves
Leaves of memories, those that never fade
But had never been understood

Stories that flow from the stars
For you, and me
Always so close, so near, so far
Stories that keep us apart
Perhaps we have never realized what made the longest path

If I had a little bit more courage
I would tell you when it started
I fear the end, too late…

Stories that keep us together
Fun, laughter, tears
Ignorance that changes us, in every way
Not just in me, you
In all of us ignorance stays.

No explanation, no anger, no dispute
Just the force of time…
We do not comprehend your disappointment, my feeling… a mess
Thinking we care less

Memories of friendship that last
Never said, never felt, never really understood
Do they really belong to the past?

Just a reflection

I haven't been blogging for ages and have almost forgotten that I had a blog in the first place. Working life is busy but fortunately I like what I am doing and where I am now (mainly attributable to my friends here). How many times had your seniors told you after you graduated that the working world out there would be treacherous, ruthless or schadenfreude-like? I had heard plenty and wondered if that world I was about to enter was going to be a greedy but shrewd hollow mask sucking and chewing the victims' senses stealthily so that they would not realise that their souls were bit by bit depleted. That was scary. That was society...

I read 'Following the wrong God home' by Catherine Lim, the celebrated Singaporean author whose 2 other books were studied as GCSE O' Level Cambridge University text. Like it and hate it. Like the way Singapore politics, culture and ordinary lives were exposed, bare but hidden. Hate the way it left me dwell in Ben's sorrow, pain and hopeless anger. Hate the way I'm bothered by it for so long, unable to convince myself that He's only a character in a story, He isn't even a real person for goodness sake. What if He's real, somewhere, shouting to the sea her poems, burnt twice and returned twice? Will his heart be 'comforted and strengthened'? It's a lie.

I love books but somehow I live in them and so it's bad. John said he shouldn't have brought Catherine Lim's book back or if he had been back earlier, he would have 'confiscated' the book. If he had a chance, he would ask me not to read the Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, but I'm already half way through with no intention to stop. Books are different from movies. I remember movies, but I don't live in them. I get out of the cinema knowing I've just watched a show most of the times. But characters in books etch in my mind, tossing my feelings, refuse to escape and no matter how rational I try to be, I can't stay indifferent.

Work, it comes in handy when one wants to escape the imaginary. Work is real, affecting the real, having the real, calling for the real money and cents. I'm happy with my work, happy with the people I work with and happy with the mini table tennis sessions that I have during lunch or after work with my friends (though I lost 21-3 to David who played with his left hand!). Work brought Jane back from London and Chi Ha back from New York. Unexpected or planned joy, excitement and sweetness, life is full of them. It only depends on whether you want to make it happen.