First day.
I dragged my feet out of my very comfortable, very physically indulging bed and got into the bathroom.
No.
Actually, I slept at 4pm and woke up at 4am, very much awake and alive, as if i had the vigor of a spartan prepared for battle. I fixed myself a quick meal, well, I prepared instant noodles and a cup of punch.
I’ll skip the arid what-i-did-today story and forward to the juicy parts.
I was at Choa Chu Kang (a train station, for you non-singaporeans) , when the train i was in stopped to allow passengers to enter and alight. Suddenly and surprisingly, the train at the other platform, the one heading towards Jurong East came to a sudden halt, with the dramatic screeching of impromtu hydraulic pressure, triggering the brake calipers which clutched the brake discs with unquestionable force.
The train stopped almost immediatly, and the bystanders were quick to react. As if they had pre-empted the entire event, true to their nation based stereotyping, they pranced around whispering and pointing, gossiping and kaypoh-ing.
* Kaypoh, as explained by talkingcock.com’s Singlish dictionary ;
A busybody or nosey parker. Can also be used as an adjective or verb. If you’re Eurasian, you can shorten it to “kayps”.
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I didn’t think much of any of it. I just assumed the train was having technical problems. Then it had to be, people in school were telling me that someone had jumped onto the track. As in, commited suicide, or at least, attempted to. I wouldn’t know.
My heart is heavy and my soul has taken on an unquenchable thirst. I ask myself again and again. I reprimanded myself, as I reflected on my big regret.
As i ask myself the big question,
” Why was I not Singaporean enough? I could’ve gotten a front seat view to a slice of action induced, midly grotesque, yet somewhat humourous in a sick way free-to-watch…thing. “
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