Seven Days Of The Prodigal Son
I got off the plane at 1 AM,
it was dark. Jet-lagged and needing a bath,
I stepped outside for a taxi,, and I am struck
by the humidity I used to know.
My kin don't know I am back. Just as well,
all theey would do is to drag me across a family reunion
like a prize trophy, and ask the questions
I don't want to answer.
On the trip to the hotel, the taxi driver regales me
in heartland language, how hard it is to make a living nowadays,
while I lie back, grunting out my politeness, while ruminating
on my mission, to rediscover the place where i lived out a quarter of my days.
Day 1. I was all dressed up
with nowhere to go. So I stepped aboard the MRT,
the buses, and went all around the homeland
I left behind so many years ago.
Everything and yet nothing has changed. Seems to me,
new buildings are still popping up like mushrooms while
the landmarks of my past, they have all disappeared in the
cycle of life and death.
The cars have multiplied in numbers, and so have
the empty, blank stares on both sides and across me,
victims of the rat race, the stress of making money, the
narrow-minded definition of success, I left to avoid facing.
Day 2. The brochures bade me visit
the attractions of home. Up to now not really knowing
the reasons for my return, I took up my trusty camera
and so indeed I did.
I went everyone the brochures led me. Orchard Road,
Suntec City and the Zoo, everywhere held pockets
of memories within a sea of change, yet nowhere could I find
The answers I am seeking.
Back at the hotel, I opened my treasure chest
of forgotten memories, and a face from my past popped out,
and in its wake, a slew of treasured moments, like
Pandora's box, reminding me of the days I knew you.
Day 3. The spirit that is you
is still haunting me. Restless and in need of answers,
I return to the site of our halcyon days, the school
that shaped my youth.
I came upon a wellspring of recollections. Among the young faces,
wearing the identity I once wore long ago, an old face
picked me out from within his own store of memories, and
sat me down for conversation.
We connected from old memories, my amnesia cured greatly,
by the release of my latent past, throught the therapy of sharing,
but still I am troubled, for I am still missing, the
essence of what I seek, and my old friend gave me the key.
Day 4. I was at the housing estate
where I was told you were. Unable to go up for some reason,
I hung around the void decks, observing the heartland
until I saw you once more.
Time has been cruel to you. A baby in one arm,
and lugging the day's groceries with a toddler in tow, you were
haggard and pale, with the same blank-eyed stare I saw so often, no longer
the bright-spirited girl I loved.
I was struck dumb, your photo numb in my hand with grief,
wanted so much to relive those days with you, but could I bear to see you in that state,
with your life in despair? I went away silently, you never knew
I was there, and perhaps it was better that way.
Day 5. I spent the whole day
with my army buddies. We have indeed changed much,
some were successful businessmen, while others
had become family men.
We relived those cavalier days over beer. The army stories,
the various exploits since we parted ways, the discussion
over family and career, the concern for me that I seem to be
amongst them, an underachiever.
I smiled off their good-natured jabs, but inside I didn't care,
why should I, when I've found the answers I wanted,
and ended up replacing my emptiness with anguish? We parted ways
with promises to reunite, I stayed to drown out my tears.
Day 6. I'm about to return to
where I came from. Yet I have no will for sightseeing,
so I spend half the day, lounging in the hotel bed
wallowing in everything I lost.
I went to Geyland to partake of the feast i missed. Roti prata,
chicken rice, curry fish head, indulging in the one thing
I remembered most fondly, the love of food I inherited
from my life here.
Another old face I see, behaving most promiscuously,
heading into a hotel with a man, and I despair,
is this all that remains of all I hold dear? I went back
to the hotel, and slept away my hangover.
Day 7. Today's the day I'm
leaving behind what I've known. I am packed and ready,
almost eager to leave this place, where my dearest memories
have been irreversible corrupted.
I spent the whole day writing this for you. By the time you get this, I'll be already gone from here,
crossing an ocean, back to the refuge where I hid
in exile from my roots.
Would you call me back? I am happy where I am,
but still I wish to relive our happiest days,
catch up on each other, become the best friends
we promised to remain, when you left me.
Please contact me at.........
