by Gwee Li Sui
ARUN: Well, you are aware of the difference between fiction and reality.
PADMA: I understand. Your childhood friendship has now matured into a seasoned relationship. Am I right, Li Lan?
LI LAN: Don’t, teacher. I feel…
PADMA: You feel shy? Well, I think I have assessed both of you well.
ARUN: With your blessings…
PADMA: Hmm… Let us see. [To herself.] So much has transpired. Yet, Singaram and Chinthamani do not have any inkling about this. But only Vimala knows about this. This secret intimacy between these two should become public soon. Let us see.
Scene 6
ARUN, VIMALA, SINGARAM, CHINTHAMANI, PADMA
The National Day song is being heard.
PADMA: You seem to be listening to the commentaries over the radio and the television?
SINGARAM: Yes Madam Padmavathy. It is our National Day programme. How can we keep away from listening and watching?
PADMA: Old memories keep coming back like waves, one after another, isn’t it?
CHINTHAMANI: Yes. It is fifty years since then. Nothing can be forgotten.
SINGARAM: Yes, indeed, so many events and so many things to reckon with…
PADMA: But there is no answer to one particular thing, is there? It’s like in the Chamundi story…
SINGARAM: Well, you are the judge. You know all the details. You can deliver your verdict. All of us are here, aren’t we?
PADMA: Before that, I need to enquire about something. You, Sembawang Singaram, do you want to fulfil the desire of your deceased sister Saratha?
SINGARAM: I tried so much to have my daughter married to Arun, my sister’s son. But my efforts did not succeed…
PADMA: Why didn’t you succeed?
SINGARAM: You should be asking Arun about it.
PADMA: Arun, did you hear what your uncle said? What do you have to say to that?
ARUN: I am grateful to Uncle and Aunt who brought me up as requested by my mother. Vimala and I grew up in the same house. So…
PADMA: So what? You are entitled to marry her by the relationship to her. Is it not proper to marry her? Why didn’t you then marry Vimala?
ARUN: I think you should ask Vimala.
PADMA: Vimala, why are you sitting there silently? What is your answer? Don’t you like your nephew Arun?
VIMALA: I have never taken him for a nephew. Since we grew up in the same household, I was affectionate towards him like an elder brother. He also took me for his younger sister. How can we become a couple in marriage?
PADMA: So…?
VIMALA: So I encouraged Li Lan, of our former kampung Sembawang, who loves Arun to continue loving him, and Arun did not resist at all.
PADMA: So they should become husband and wife? That is what you want, isn’t it, Vimala?
VIMALA: Yes, madam. Their wish is my wish. I am most sincerely happy about it.
PADMA: But your father and mother are greatly shocked. I am surprised, Arun! What do you have to say?
ARUN: All that Vimala says is true. Li Lan loves me, and I too love her too with the firm belief that Aunt and Uncle will accept us …
PADMA: Singaram and Chinthamani! Do you accept Li Lan as the daughter-in-law of this household? Do you approve the decision of Vimala and Arun?
SINGARAM [hesitates]: We… we…
CHINTHAMANI: How can we say no? Everyone has his or her wish. Vimala and Arun have made their wishes clear.
SINGARAM: Can we then stand in the way of their wishes? Hope everything goes well.
CHINTHAMANI: OK… it’s been long since we last met Li Lan of our former kampung. When shall we meet her?
VIMALA: See… Li Lan and her father are coming over.
PADMA: Oh, all this is arranged by you, Vimala! Indeed, you have done a good thing! [LI LAN and ANG enter.] Welcome, Ang! Come, Li Lan. You have come at the right time. Take your seat. Duduk lah.
ANG: Terima Kasih – thank you – ada baik ? How are you? Is everyone doing well?
SINGARAM: Welcome, Ang. Welcome, Li Lan.
CHINTHAMANI: Welcome, welcome. Take your seat. Li Lan, dear. How are you?
LI LAN: Fine, Ma.
VIMALA: Teacher, here are the rings. Let the couple exchange their rings.
PADMA: You have pre-arranged everything fastidiously, Vimala. You are an intelligent girl, all right! Give the rings to your father and mother. Let Uncle Ang also have a look at them. With the blessings of all, let them exchange the rings.
SINGARAM: Yes, this is an auspicious time.
CHINTHAMANI: Yes, quite an auspicious time indeed.
ANG: I am so very happy now.
PADMA: Arun, Li Lan. Come here. The elders have given their blessings. Can you both now exchange rings? All our wishes have been now fulfilled. Another auspicious event should happen soon in this household.
ARUN: Yes, teacher. Li Lan and I are…
LI LAN: Looking out for a good groom for Vimala. Soon Vimala will be married.
VIMALA: Aren’t you all teasing me?
PADMA: No, we are not teasing or making fun of you. I also know what your wishes are, Vimala. Your marriage will take place only after you have completed your studies.
CHINTHAMANI: All right then, can everyone move over to the table? The dinner is ready.
SINGARAM: Arun, Li Lan, Ang, this way please.
VIMALA: This is not only the National Day dinner, it is also the engagement dinner. Come on everybody… Bless the couple.
Laughter of happiness is heard.
1 In some section of the South Indian community, it is permitted to marry the daughter of one’s aunt.
2 Tamil word meaning baby that can be used as a term of endearment on a young person.
3 A song was composed by Barathiyar, a popular poet of Tamil Nadu.
The Long Walk
BY TAN MEI CHING
He was on a timer today, Ben was, but so it seemed was this man with the wire-thin moustache. “I don’t want the crab to be overcooked,” the man said, shaking an imperative finger at Ben.
“It won’t be, sir,” Ben said for what seemed like the zillionth time. Orders usually take three minutes to get and go, but this fellow was on a roll.
The man repeated, “Four minutes will do.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll tell the cook.”
“Make sure!”
“Yes, sir.” Ben sped off to the kitchen. He knew what Cook would say, but hey, give the customer what he wants. Perhaps he really enjoyed eating rubber.
“Ben!” The floor manager waved a phone at him. Before he handed it over, he gave Ben a frown not unlike Crabby Man’s. “Personal call. Again.”
“Sorry,” Ben mumbled. Mr. Ang looked set to stand there until he was done, a stopwatch in his pocket, Ben was sure. Ben cupped the mouthpiece and whispered, “Hi.”
“Ben, don’t be late tonight, OK. We’re cutting the cake at six.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m knocking off at three. Plenty of time.”
“My uncle’s going to be here, and my grandmother.”
“Your uncle?” Ben was alarmed. He didn’t need to meet one more super-achieving future relative. He was having enough butterflies about his future mother-in-law.
“Yeah, the one who works at the President’s office.”
“Great.”
“He’s OK. My mum listens to him. If he likes you, better for us.”
“Does your mum know I’m coming?”
Silence. Not a good sign when Yi was silent.
“I want to surprise her,” Yi said.
“Oh yeah, she’ll be surprised.” Ben wasn’t feeling so good. “Er, should I bring your mum a present?”
“I don’t know. She has everything she needs.”
“Needs and wants are two different things.” Ben should know after working in the restaurant for two months.
“Some herbal stuff. I don’t know.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“Something for health, I guess?”
; It hit Ben suddenly: Yi was just as nervous as he was. He had always assumed that Yi would have no trouble getting her own way with her parents. She was, after all, the only daughter in the grand old Lee family. And, unfortunately for Ben, she wanted to share her grand old family with him. For her sake, he would try, but boy, did he not need this meeting to be even more important than he’d thought!
Mr. Ang tapped a finger on the counter. The call was taking more than five minutes. Company policy was: Five minutes too many, five dollars off your salary. Ben promised to be at Yi’s no later than 6 p.m. and hung up. As he hustled to take the order of yet another particular customer, he heard a now familiar querulous voice say, “I said four minutes!” Ben groaned.
Mr. Ang waved him over. Ben knew what was coming. “What’s our motto here?” Mr. Ang asked.
“You forget, you regret,” Ben muttered. “I’ll take out the rubbish.” Actually, he was glad for the break. He wasn’t feeling up to resentment. Hauling out the trash, breaking some sweat would do him good.
Leaning against the dumpster, Ben stared at the brilliant blue sky. It was August and characteristically warm and humid. Thank goodness he brought along a new shirt for the party. At least he wouldn’t smell like a crabstick. Looking down, perspiration fell off his face and dotted a piece of newspaper he was stepping on. He squatted and read, “The King of Kings: D328.” Accompanying this proclamation was a picture of a big, dark green durian with enormously fat thorns. Something in his mind clicked.
“That’s it,” Ben said to the piece of paper. He folded it and stuck it in his pocket.
At three o’clock, Ben took off his small blue apron, washed his hands quickly, gulped down some water and was about to grab his new shirt from the staff locker when Mr. Ang said, “Chop the onions for the night shift.”
“But my shift’s over,” Ben said.
“You forget, you regret.”
“I have to go to a party, my girlfriend’s mother’s birthday. I’ll stay later tomorrow, OK?”
“So today we tell the customers there’s no onions because of Ben’s girlfriend’s mother’s birthday party?”
Ben grabbed his apron. Arguing with Mr. Ang would take another five minutes, with no tangible benefits. It’d take one and a half minutes to cut an onion. The entire basket would take him about one hour. It was one hour he couldn’t afford today. He had timed everything perfectly, with only a small window for unforeseen circumstances. He did not expect onions to be an unforeseen circumstance.
After fifty-five minutes and one thousand onions, Ben dumped the rest into a potato sack. Then, seeing an opportunity when Mr. Ang was admonishing a hapless new cashier, he escaped, running all the way to the bus stop. He was weeping like a Taiwanese soap opera, and he stank like a giant ripe bulb. With a sickening thud, he realised he’d forgotten his new shirt.
As he pondered his very few options, the bus came. Four o’clock now. The next one would only arrive fifteen to twenty minutes later. He couldn’t afford it. Grimly, he swung onboard and tilted the air-conditioning valves above and behind at himself. Hopefully, by the time he reached Waterloo Street he’d be decently aerated.
Perhaps it was the sleepless night or the onions, but Ben fell asleep and missed his stop. The bus ride took twenty minutes; walking back two bus stops took five minutes. It was a testament to the power of the durian that, five minutes away from his destination, Ben could smell the intoxicating, enticing scent. To some people, it might smell like a week’s worth of unwashed socks, but Ben was of the enlightened race – he loved durians. As did Yi’s mother. This might be the very thing to bridge the gap between them – food for all senses, glue for all classes.
And there, in large wicker baskets, their prickly, lively green bodies stacked high; pale creamy, warm amber, gleaming yellow flesh peeking through cracks – hundreds, no, thousands of durians, waiting to be revered.
Ben wasn’t quite sure where to start. Many of the hawkers looked like they had been through a prison or two; he wasn’t sure he was up to bargaining with them. He checked the time: 4:30. Bargaining with one hawker might take ten minutes. He could only spare three hawkers at the most. He headed for a middle-aged woman with thick grey gloves and a lusty voice yelling, “Come! Come! Guaranteed eats!”
“Er… excuse me,” Ben said, digging into his pocket for the picture.
“Three for ten dollars! Take and go! What you want, boy? One for twenty dollars! Guaranteed eats!” The woman did not let up on her amplifier.
Ben, sound-blasted, showed her the newspaper. “Do you have this?” he asked, or rather, shouted.
The woman took a glance. “Guaranteed eats! Ten dollars a kilo! This one, boy? You eat this durian?”
“Not me, it’s for… Do you have it?”
“Three for ten dollars!” The woman bounced a five-kilo durian in one hand as if it were no more than a tennis ball. “Take this, I give it for eighty dollars. Guaranteed eats.”
“Is this D328?”
“This is good. Seventy-five, I give it away.”
“This is D328?”
The woman frowned at him. “Very expensive, you know, D328. Why you want so expensive? This is only ten dollars a kilo. Very good also.”
“Do you know where I can find this durian?”
“Don’t know, don’t know! Come, come! Guaranteed eats! Boy, this durian is very expensive you know, fifteen dollars –”
“Thank you, thank you, sorry!” Ben had to move on. It was 4:40. And here was another unforeseen circumstance, fifteen dollars a kilo. Ouch. He checked his wallet.
“Shit,” he muttered, looking around for an ATM. Finding one took five minutes; waiting in the queue of the similarly foresight lacking took eight minutes; feeding in his card, punching in the numbers and waiting for the machine to verify legitimacy took another two minutes. By the time he withdrew half of his account, it was five to five.
This time, he tried a tanned man with a tattoo of a ship on his bicep.
“No time to see picture!” The man waved Ben away.
“I have to find this, D328. Please help. It’s for my…” he gulped, “mother-in-law.”
The man squinted. “Empress taste, your mother-in-law.”
Ben tried to chuckle, but his throat was too dry.
“Okay, I tell you, you remember Ah Huat, OK. Next time, you buy from me. Today I tell you where you can find this King.” To Ben’s alarm, the man grabbed his arm and scribbled on it. “You go there,” said the man. “Tell them Ah Huat sent you. You can buy twelve for the price of ten.”
“I just want five durians only…” Five for the Big Fifty – he thought that it would be a nice touch.
“Go, go, the King won’t wait!”
Not one to argue with tattooed men and seeing that the watch had struck five, Ben took off at a run. The address on his arm was three streets away. He could be there in ten minutes. Brushing away the perspiration dripping from his head – he was glad that he didn’t waste a perfectly good clean shirt after all – he found the street and its rather ancient inhabitants: an old lady with a tattered banana-leaf fan, a small cart, and an uncommonly large and ragged dog. And, in the air, the pervasive, heavenly scent of the King of Fruits.
Huffing and puffing – he really should be more diligent with his weekly jog – wishing for a cold drink, Ben gathered his breath to speak to the wizened lady. The woman peered at Ben, her yellowed eyes shrewd in their gaze. All at once, the dog barked. Ben backed away. He wondered if perhaps Ah Huat, annoyed by his sweat-stained picture and the onion fog about him, had sent him on Death’s errand.
“What you want?” The woman slapped the dog, which quieted down immediately and flopped across Ben’s dusty shoes, effectively barring quick escape. Ben, feeling slightly dizzy, held out the piece of paper to the old woman. She looked at it nonchalantly.
“Yah,” she said. “Come today.”
“D328? Really?”
“Yah.”
“Yah?” Ben was weak with
relief.
“Yah! You deaf, is it?”
“I want five, please.”
The old lady flipped the tarp covering the small cart and looked at the opulent green globes of spikes, deciding. Ben looked at his watch – 5:15. This was not good, but still, if he could catch a taxi… The old lady took a durian from the top of the pile and shook it, sniffed it, shook it again. A short knife appeared in her hand almost magically, and, with the strength of a prison tough, she opened a crack in the durian.
“This one OK?” She showed Ben the pale, tender flesh. A strong, bold aroma hit him. His stomach growled; he’d forgotten lunch.
Ben nodded.
“Special smell, like very good X.O. and whiskey, different from others,” said the old lady. She picked another durian, opened it, and Ben nodded again. And again, another durian, an irregular-shaped one this time. He wiped more sweat off his forehead. What a god-awful hot day.
The old lady weighed the five durians on a scale that she nudged out from under the cart. “Twenty kilos and 300 grams. I discount, twenty kilos only.”
“Fifteen dollars a kilo, right?” Ben took out his wallet.
The old lady guffawed. “You mad, is it? Fifteen dollars a kilo? You want to bargain must also be reasonable! Fifteen dollars 200 grams. Here 1,500 dollars.”
Ben almost fainted. “1,000…?”
“1,000. 500. You’re lucky,” the old lady said. “This durian very popular, very hard to find. I got special connection in Malaysia, this is guaranteed good!” Seeing Ben’s hesitation, “You want or not?”
“Yes, but…” Ben swallowed, checked his wallet, then dug into all his pockets. The old lady waited, her banana-leaf fan moving up and down. “I have only…” He looked at the notes – a veritable wad to him. “Just two, two durians please.”
“I already opened five!”
“Sorry, I have only… only 383 dollars.”
The old lady’s fan hit her lap. The big ragged dog lifted its head. Ben felt blood draining from his torn neck. “Why you like that?” the old lady demanded. “The durians already open. You cannot buy things like this, you know.”
Ben hung his head, stared into the dog’s pitiless eyes. He shuddered. “Ma’am, sorry, but I didn’t know. I…” Ben couldn’t say anymore. He was hot, dizzy, hungry, thirsty beyond belief, and all he had was too little.
