Dad, i do think you are oft times lonely -
living in a house full of us ladies...
having only a loving wive and seven lovable daughters -
i wonder if you had ever wished otherwise...?
I know you had a hard time to provide for all of us -
and your parents and youngest brother and sister, too;
and what with work stress at the office -
and you as the chief must lead;
and financial problems to make ends meet -
you had your head and your hands full!
I remember you didn't talk much to us when we were young -
and mum saying you were a shy guy, especially among ladies!
all i remember was how you took us for picnics during weekends -
and how we were chased, and caught, and dipped into the sea!
and though we gulped down quite a few mouthfuls of the saltish sea -
we grew up to love the sea, and your legacy has lived on - we picnicked...
My early memories of you also covers the fact -
that you had to drown your pride, and run next door,
to seek a neighbour's help, to rush me to the doc -
whenever i had my asthmatic attacks, in the wee hours of the morning...
Later in life, when you were sick and weak and in pain -
with cancerous cells spreading over your lungs,
eating into your healthy body, you talked long to us -
as equals, as adults, no longer through mum as our mouthpiece...
And that fateful April holidays in 1988 -
i remember you were really gaunt and weak;
i remember feeding you bread dipped in Milo -
which was all that you could even swallow...
And on your deathbed, you looked around -
and singled us out, one by one, to say your last;
and when it came to my turn: i knew what you wanted to say -
and promised to be good, and to take care of myself;
while we told you to go, 'coz you were in pain -
we would take care of each other, we promised...
And then you were gone , leaving behind the memories -
of how you taught me question tags, and formal letters;
and that one letter that you wrote to me, when i was 'banished' -
i've kept it to today, and cried over its contents, still,
'coz you spoke of the family's love for me; and mine for them -
and taught me to think before i act; and never to act selfishly...
You left memories of beautiful roses in our little garden -
and sunflowers, tall and straight one season, too...
you left us memories of your hunting days, too -
and all the praises we hear of your badminton skill...
Most of all, you taught us to be good at what we do -
and to love the things that we do;
you gave us our first puppy to love -
and taught us to be fair and just - like you...
Showing posts with label too. Show all posts
Showing posts with label too. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
"I Love Rainy Days"
I love it when the skies are bright and sunny
with lovely white clouds sailing by...
but lately i seem to love rainy days
more and more
'coz it reminds me of a lonely place
long, long ago -
and the monsoon rains pouring out their love songs
so long, long ago...
They were happy memories of nostalgic moments
so long, long ago -
i wonder if you still remember the girl you 'dated'
so long, long ago...
i remember what i wore -
i remember, too, the smiles that you wore...
i remember the pain of parting -
the feeling that made the heart raw...
i remember with sorrow the look in your eyes
and how their sadness broke my heart...
and how the rain washed down the tears
and how that last look stayed in the heart
like a gaping wound that would not heal
all these long, lonely years...
And each time it rains -
the pain of that last look
came back so fresh to mind -
and the poor heart bleeds anew...
with lovely white clouds sailing by...
but lately i seem to love rainy days
more and more
'coz it reminds me of a lonely place
long, long ago -
and the monsoon rains pouring out their love songs
so long, long ago...
They were happy memories of nostalgic moments
so long, long ago -
i wonder if you still remember the girl you 'dated'
so long, long ago...
i remember what i wore -
i remember, too, the smiles that you wore...
i remember the pain of parting -
the feeling that made the heart raw...
i remember with sorrow the look in your eyes
and how their sadness broke my heart...
and how the rain washed down the tears
and how that last look stayed in the heart
like a gaping wound that would not heal
all these long, lonely years...
And each time it rains -
the pain of that last look
came back so fresh to mind -
and the poor heart bleeds anew...
Monday, January 31, 2011
A Barian I'll always be
It was the first day at school,
and the year was 1966 -
when i first stepped into TBSS
(Tengku Bariah Secondary School)
a new school - a school for the 'scums'
a school you won't want to be in -
if given the choice,
SSSS (Sultan Sulaiman Sec Sch) it'll be!
Sis was there - a year before me -
to guide freshie me around the school;
what i remember most was the first meal
at the school canteen -
Sis had handed the plate to me:
it was a plate of mee,
but what was so tasty
were the two sticks of keropok lekor
with lots of chilli!
i'll always remember that first 20sen meal
at the school canteen...
i remember someone else
on that first day in TBSS:
my assistant monitor, Seok Young -
a tall athelic with a small, sharp voice;
i stood there in the new class,
and when she saw that i had no chair -
she leaped up and bounded down the stairs,
and came back in a jiffy,
with a chair for me!
and i loved her from that moment on...
The other memory of an impressive figure
happened in the school canteen:
i was hurrying after my classmates
when a voice asked for my name
and which class i was in -
and before i knew it,
there he was, with a cough, and a drawl,
and a twirl of his forehead lock:
to tell us of his travels,
and faraway tales of adventure,
on his trusted motorbike -
dreamy-eyed and absorbed,
(we'ld go on such escapades,
and experience such a life of adventure,
one day..., we'd thought)
my Art teacher was he!
and later my Geog teacher,
my prefect master,
and Sri Barian adviser,
and later, a confidante
and family friend, too...
And of all the classes
my art lessons i truly loved -
for not only did we paint
the kampung chickens and goats
outside the school fence,
but also went on field trips
leaving the school gates far behind -
to paint the canals and paddy fields:
and my art block was his practice easel,
my hand held his paint brush -
while 'my B- paintings' went up on the wall -
together with all the A++ ones,
much to the envy of all...!
and whenever we had to be confined
in the class: it was i who was
the model, in my purple sweater,
with my model bag and my model umbrella -
for all who sat in a semi-circle to paint!
and it was i, pinned up on the wall -
with all the A++ grades to my fame...!
and he would throw a challenge:
"If Cheng Neo would tell a story,
gold pieces would fall fromthe skies!"
to which i completely lost my tongue!
but what i didn't like
was when he was my Geog teacher -
and compared me to my sis
(who was always top of her class)!
I remember my English lessons well -
loved The Black Arrow for the romance,
and The Kontiki Expedition
'coz Mrs Lim read it so well...
loved my first form teacher in Form 1:
Miss Loke Chee Ping was her name
she was the Home Science teacher in Form 1
and gave me a good rub and a hot drink
when i had 'stomach cramps' one day,
and she was also the conductor
every Sunday morn - to start the Nee...
for Negaraku!
she was also my English teacher
in Form 1,
who told all the other teachers
of my being top essayist
in each test, or exam,
and praised me to the sky -
and teachers stopped to ask for my score
as they walked by...
Mrs Jega(nathan) was my History teacher
in Form 3,
also in charge of the library was she;
a discipline mistress with muscled arms
she swung her cane and left many
with a sore bum!
Later in 1973, in SABS, in JB:
i was an attachment teacher, so green -
she brought me to the class and said'
"Here's your new teacher, Miss Chan -
and she was my ex-student in TBSS!"
then came our ancient History teacher,
Mr Royan - in Form 5 -
a hairy giant - with hair growing
from his nostrils and his ears!
for his subject i didn't do well,
(Sorry , Sir, is all that i can say)
Another favourite teacher
is Mr Wong Fook Seng
(there were three Wongs,
so we had to get his name right!)
my Maths teacher in Form 1 or 2 -
(in Form 3 we had a jovial "humpty dumpty"
who huffed and puffed up the stairs -
and took a moment to catch his breath ,
smiling happily all the while,
then came his breathless greeting,
and a fine morning 'twas, under him...)
who, i feel, taught me 'alone'
in a class of 33 or 40?
with one leg on the chair before me
and leaning forward, towards me (i feel)
to deliver his Maths lesson -
i sat through all my Maths class
with my head bowed, with a shy 'flush':
i couldn't lift up my head,
'coz he was so near, his nose so close!(ha-ha)
Another most beloved figure, Cikgu Zin,
was my young Form 4 & 5 form teacher
who became a principal
of the Muar Sri Amar DiRaja;
then the Johor state
Director of Education;
(and married the prettiest girl in class
with a lovely, captivating, dimpled smile,
and a pair of fluttering eyelashes,
and long, straight, jet black hair)
i was the only Chinese in his class,
besides a pair of Indians -
and i became an Aini to my classmates
sharing everything that we had together:
Azizah's rambutans and durians and manggis -
all from her dusun in Kuala Berang (or Manir?)
and Zainon's buah quini; and not forgetting
Wan Zainab's Seberang Tahir keropok lekor
was a great favourite, too -
even sampan rides in Kuala Berang (or Manir?)
and walking on the sand bar
in the middle of the Trengganu river
and lunch in after the river adventure
tasted like heaven, to hungry folks like us
with all the happy smiles, and
"Eat more...! Eat more...!"
we tucked ourselves into the spread,
much to the delight of Azizah's parents -
as they watched us gobble down our fill!
Another unforgetable character is Mr Ho,
who was the assistant library teacher:
on our library duty one day,
i caught a boy stealing -
he had brought the date stamp
from his father's shop
to stamp the due date,
and smuggle the book out...
i 'caught' him, and he returned the book
but begged me not to tell...
quoting friendship, racial-relationship, etc,
and i was at odds - 'to tell or not to tell'?
the next day, after a restless night, i went
to the library, to spill the beans -
for i was the chief librarian for the day,
entrusted with the all important task
of keeping thieves and vandals at bay,
so i couldn't, that trust i had to maintain -
or be a let-down, an accomplice, a traitor
to myself, and my teachers: a dismay!
so i told, and he was punished -
and that brought his fury and vengeance our way:
when i went over for Mandarin class,
(he was from the Commerce class, i the Arts)
all were told to boycott, to keep away...;
and when Mr Ho went into their class
for his Geog lesson, he and his gang
drummed the desk, and rapped away:
"Botak! Botak!" was what they say!
There was Miss Padmaja, too,
my Literature teacher, who lived with her siblings
and nine cats (?!), on the Batu Buruk beach,
facing the sunrise, the palm trees, and the sea...
though there were just five or six of us,
she taught us to love Shakespeare and poetry...
Those were the school days experienced -
happy yet sad; poignant yet
sometimes filled with pain,
and those were the young,
dedicated teachers assigned to teach -
that we, the 'rejects' of elite SSSS, did get...
and the year was 1966 -
when i first stepped into TBSS
(Tengku Bariah Secondary School)
a new school - a school for the 'scums'
a school you won't want to be in -
if given the choice,
SSSS (Sultan Sulaiman Sec Sch) it'll be!
Sis was there - a year before me -
to guide freshie me around the school;
what i remember most was the first meal
at the school canteen -
Sis had handed the plate to me:
it was a plate of mee,
but what was so tasty
were the two sticks of keropok lekor
with lots of chilli!
i'll always remember that first 20sen meal
at the school canteen...
i remember someone else
on that first day in TBSS:
my assistant monitor, Seok Young -
a tall athelic with a small, sharp voice;
i stood there in the new class,
and when she saw that i had no chair -
she leaped up and bounded down the stairs,
and came back in a jiffy,
with a chair for me!
and i loved her from that moment on...
The other memory of an impressive figure
happened in the school canteen:
i was hurrying after my classmates
when a voice asked for my name
and which class i was in -
and before i knew it,
there he was, with a cough, and a drawl,
and a twirl of his forehead lock:
to tell us of his travels,
and faraway tales of adventure,
on his trusted motorbike -
dreamy-eyed and absorbed,
(we'ld go on such escapades,
and experience such a life of adventure,
one day..., we'd thought)
my Art teacher was he!
and later my Geog teacher,
my prefect master,
and Sri Barian adviser,
and later, a confidante
and family friend, too...
And of all the classes
my art lessons i truly loved -
for not only did we paint
the kampung chickens and goats
outside the school fence,
but also went on field trips
leaving the school gates far behind -
to paint the canals and paddy fields:
and my art block was his practice easel,
my hand held his paint brush -
while 'my B- paintings' went up on the wall -
together with all the A++ ones,
much to the envy of all...!
and whenever we had to be confined
in the class: it was i who was
the model, in my purple sweater,
with my model bag and my model umbrella -
for all who sat in a semi-circle to paint!
and it was i, pinned up on the wall -
with all the A++ grades to my fame...!
and he would throw a challenge:
"If Cheng Neo would tell a story,
gold pieces would fall fromthe skies!"
to which i completely lost my tongue!
but what i didn't like
was when he was my Geog teacher -
and compared me to my sis
(who was always top of her class)!
I remember my English lessons well -
loved The Black Arrow for the romance,
and The Kontiki Expedition
'coz Mrs Lim read it so well...
loved my first form teacher in Form 1:
Miss Loke Chee Ping was her name
she was the Home Science teacher in Form 1
and gave me a good rub and a hot drink
when i had 'stomach cramps' one day,
and she was also the conductor
every Sunday morn - to start the Nee...
for Negaraku!
she was also my English teacher
in Form 1,
who told all the other teachers
of my being top essayist
in each test, or exam,
and praised me to the sky -
and teachers stopped to ask for my score
as they walked by...
Mrs Jega(nathan) was my History teacher
in Form 3,
also in charge of the library was she;
a discipline mistress with muscled arms
she swung her cane and left many
with a sore bum!
Later in 1973, in SABS, in JB:
i was an attachment teacher, so green -
she brought me to the class and said'
"Here's your new teacher, Miss Chan -
and she was my ex-student in TBSS!"
then came our ancient History teacher,
Mr Royan - in Form 5 -
a hairy giant - with hair growing
from his nostrils and his ears!
for his subject i didn't do well,
(Sorry , Sir, is all that i can say)
Another favourite teacher
is Mr Wong Fook Seng
(there were three Wongs,
so we had to get his name right!)
my Maths teacher in Form 1 or 2 -
(in Form 3 we had a jovial "humpty dumpty"
who huffed and puffed up the stairs -
and took a moment to catch his breath ,
smiling happily all the while,
then came his breathless greeting,
and a fine morning 'twas, under him...)
who, i feel, taught me 'alone'
in a class of 33 or 40?
with one leg on the chair before me
and leaning forward, towards me (i feel)
to deliver his Maths lesson -
i sat through all my Maths class
with my head bowed, with a shy 'flush':
i couldn't lift up my head,
'coz he was so near, his nose so close!(ha-ha)
Another most beloved figure, Cikgu Zin,
was my young Form 4 & 5 form teacher
who became a principal
of the Muar Sri Amar DiRaja;
then the Johor state
Director of Education;
(and married the prettiest girl in class
with a lovely, captivating, dimpled smile,
and a pair of fluttering eyelashes,
and long, straight, jet black hair)
i was the only Chinese in his class,
besides a pair of Indians -
and i became an Aini to my classmates
sharing everything that we had together:
Azizah's rambutans and durians and manggis -
all from her dusun in Kuala Berang (or Manir?)
and Zainon's buah quini; and not forgetting
Wan Zainab's Seberang Tahir keropok lekor
was a great favourite, too -
even sampan rides in Kuala Berang (or Manir?)
and walking on the sand bar
in the middle of the Trengganu river
and lunch in after the river adventure
tasted like heaven, to hungry folks like us
with all the happy smiles, and
"Eat more...! Eat more...!"
we tucked ourselves into the spread,
much to the delight of Azizah's parents -
as they watched us gobble down our fill!
Another unforgetable character is Mr Ho,
who was the assistant library teacher:
on our library duty one day,
i caught a boy stealing -
he had brought the date stamp
from his father's shop
to stamp the due date,
and smuggle the book out...
i 'caught' him, and he returned the book
but begged me not to tell...
quoting friendship, racial-relationship, etc,
and i was at odds - 'to tell or not to tell'?
the next day, after a restless night, i went
to the library, to spill the beans -
for i was the chief librarian for the day,
entrusted with the all important task
of keeping thieves and vandals at bay,
so i couldn't, that trust i had to maintain -
or be a let-down, an accomplice, a traitor
to myself, and my teachers: a dismay!
so i told, and he was punished -
and that brought his fury and vengeance our way:
when i went over for Mandarin class,
(he was from the Commerce class, i the Arts)
all were told to boycott, to keep away...;
and when Mr Ho went into their class
for his Geog lesson, he and his gang
drummed the desk, and rapped away:
"Botak! Botak!" was what they say!
There was Miss Padmaja, too,
my Literature teacher, who lived with her siblings
and nine cats (?!), on the Batu Buruk beach,
facing the sunrise, the palm trees, and the sea...
though there were just five or six of us,
she taught us to love Shakespeare and poetry...
Those were the school days experienced -
happy yet sad; poignant yet
sometimes filled with pain,
and those were the young,
dedicated teachers assigned to teach -
that we, the 'rejects' of elite SSSS, did get...
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