Much has progressed and regressed over lost time. Much has descended and ascended over the hills of continuity. Habits have come and gone in the chasm between the now and the then... This is one such habit.
***
The Receding days of Varsity... The Receding Memories of Age
It has been days since I have stepped onto the hills of kentridge. As mentioned in a post long ago, my days of varsity have slipped into the annals of dusty tomes. My feet have become reluctant to step onto the paths once familiar, afraid to see the changes and unwilling to alter the memories that are tightly clung on to.
The final year saw myself stubbornly cling onto a destructive habit. A habit, which I initially thought to be my saving grace and eventually ending up to be my greatest bane. I went seeking for glory and ended up floundering in the muds of pain and disillusionment. I was left wondering (and still am) whether the achievement that I sought out so desperately to achieve (and achieved) was worth the churling journey I endured.
That habit was staying on for one more term in a society...
Yet I pushed on into it. Hoping to seek redemption. Like a religious pilgrim on the shores of the River Ganges. I stood on the shore, staring into the horizon for a time unbeknownst, feet entrenched in the wet sand, my heart beating heavily in my chest and my mind screaming its logic as if I were intoxicated. Yet I stepped into the river, to wash away my guilt and doubt ridden self, seeking the elusive the redemption despite the knowledge that I did not know what redemption exactly meant.
And then it was all swiftly over and I found myself in the exam hall for one last time, standing up to hand my exam paper for one last time and boarding the bus that I took for the last time as a matriculated student. My NUSTLS experience ended soon after in the brightly lit and crowded NUS UCC, as I marched out mechanically and awkwardly through the crowds that were jubilant at the success of the event that transpired within the halls of UCC.
***
To Shape and Mould the Future of Tomorrow....
In the midst of the dying days of yesterday, I was making the bold steps of tomorrow. I found myself sitting on a sofa in a glass chamber, in my soft blue long sleeves, black trousers and shiny black shoes. Beside me were my papers, unimpressive yet sufficient and encompassing 15 years of education, wrapped in an unassuming black case.
The interview was short. The panel were cordial. The deed was signed but the terms were never read. 6 short and wasteful months passed thereafter. 6 months through which I was shaped to hate myself, the mould was broken in a thousand different pieces and the present was filled with dread of what lay tomorrow. In March, my computer churned out a letter, before it died a week later. A letter that entailed the terms of my release in one simple paragraph.
I lay on my sofa wondering what lay beyond that day....
***
A Broken Promise to a Friend....
In life it is difficult to find good friends. Good friends that stay on as Time ebbs and flows around us. But there was one such friend. A man who was just like me, who grew plants and reared fish. In my young and foolish days of NS, he wrote me letters (which I still keep) and met me for breakfast at the now-long-gone HANs at Hougang.
As I lay on my sofa in the rainy days of May '07, staring at the off-white ceiling of my humble abode, I remembered that fateful phonecall he made in December '07. The phonecall was to remind me of a promise I once made... to join the service together, to adorn the uniform and answer the call to serve the nation. The sound of the bugle has faded and now replaced by the grumble of the empty stomach. Survival has superseded all. The promise was made alive. He had stayed the course, and I have become the late pretender.
Once again I found myself in a glass chamber, in the same soft blue long sleeves, black trousers and shiny black shoes. Yet I sat before a panel of what I would soon become. The image of uniformity and bearing. As, I pulled on my uniform, slipped into my boots and hid under my peak cap, my friend floundered... and I wasn't there to catch him as he fell.
The promise was broken as we went our separate ways...
6 months later, life was the image of a broken mirror. What was done can never be undone and my friend, who laboured in an effort to climb back to fight by my side, is forever separated from me by an impenetrable steel wall.
The promise forever lay broken.
***
Blood comes of Age
In the early days of this year, just as Barack Obama took his first few steps into the offices of the White House as the most important man in the world, I also witnessed my own flesh and blood, my youngest kin, step into the most important phase of his life. Ironically, his maiden entry was clothed in the new kit of a new generation. Fate, it seems, has decided to distinguish the otherwise common experiences of men in our fair nation. His journey has begun, and mine revisited. Nevertheless.... there is more to come...
***
Moving Forward. Like we always do, whether we grasp its meaning or not. We may plod, walk, run, crawl or get dragged but move forward we shall until we reach our mortal ends and step into the unknown world beyond. But for now, live we shall for that is a choice that we can exercise.
Many thanks to my greatest fans. My loving brother and girlfriend who urged me, whenever they could, to blog and hence to live within the words I pen in these pages. My gratitude to the both of you for believing that I do have passable writing skills that thrill and entertain those who bother.....
Till the next post... Godbless.
