“I think I can hear the bird, Grandma,” said Michael. “I heard it once before, when I was alone in the house one morning.” No birds flew near the dark House of Death in crowded Sago Lane, but the boy had an active imagination. He heard birds in his sleep and sometimes strange creatures from the deeps, that made him moan and move from side to side. The idiot, in an outburst of pure joy, hoisted the boy on to his shoulders and carried him round the room. The boy laughed with delight and clung tight, afraid of falling.
The old woman with the bare scalp said, “Oh, do be careful, the boy may fall,” but the idiot continued to prance round with Michael on his shoulders, gurgling, his head moving from side to side.
“A man loved his wife so much that he always listened to her and ill-treated his mother,” said Old Mother. “He forgot how his mother had borne him in pain, suckled him, brought him up in hardship and sorrow. Now, the wicked young woman showed no respect for her old mother-in-law; not once did she take her a basin of water to wash her face in the mornings, not once did she offer a cup of tea. A daughter-in-law dutifully empties the mother-in-law’s chamber pot every morning, but this daughter-in-law was so wicked, she made her mother-in-law empty her chamber pot. The mother-in-law was very old and could hardly walk but every morning she had to empty the daughter-in-law’s chamber pot. The ‘old devil’, the ‘old-she-devil’, she muttered all day. ‘Die, old-she-devil die, for I want to be rid of you.’
Then one day she instigated her husband to get rid of the old one. She said, ‘Put her on your back and take her to the dark forest and leave her there to be eaten by the wild animals. But tell her you are taking her to see a puppet show. She loves puppet shows, and can be easily fooled.’ Now the young man was so much under the influence of his wife that he immediately complied with her order. He said to his old mother, ‘Come, mother, I’m going to carry you on my back and take you to see a puppet show. Today, they are performing the story of the Heavenly Emperor with the silver and gold chariot and the Monkey-God! Come, mother, come,’ and squatted down so that she could climb on to his back. She laughed in her happiness, she was eager to see the puppets with their colourful faces and clothes. She laughed with glee. So he carried her through the dark forest, but the Lightning God who releases bolt upon bolt of lightning upon the heads of the unfilial, saw him and killed him in his anger. ‘You have committed the greatest of sins,’ cried this God and the man was struck dead.
‘But that was not punishment enough. The God breathed upon the man and he came back to life, all horribly charred by the lightning bolts. He groaned in pain and groaned still louder when a huge snake, with very sharp fangs, unwound itself from a nearby tree at the bidding of the God, slid towards him and sank its teeth into his heart. His body was now all bloated with the poison. So the man died, a double death; he was struck by the Lightning God and he was bitten by a snake.’
“But, Grandma, the old mother-in-law was eaten up by wild beasts,” said Michael, his mind clear despite the fever. “You told me the last time that she was eaten up by wild beasts in the dark forest.”
“No. He was struck dead by lightning and was bitten by a snake and it served him right,” muttered Old Mother bitterly. “It served him right because he listened to his wife when he should have listened to his mother.”
“Ah Siew Chae, my dear sister,” said Old Mother, turning to the old woman in the patched black blouse and cupping both hands in hers. The old woman chuckled and nodded. “We were happy together for a long time. You were never a servant, for I loved you as a sister. You had no sons but daughters and you were sad. You were jealous and even said, ‘One night I will go to your house, straight to the cradle where your baby son is, and I will steal him away, and put my baby daughter in his place!’ But, what’s the use of sons now, Ah Siew Chae!” Old Mother began to weep. The old woman who had been chuckling all along now frowned in dismay; her mouth collapsed round her toothless gums in an expression of pure sympathy as she tried to stem the flow of Old Mother’s tears.
“Do you have a coffin?” asked Old Mother anxiously, drying her tears. “A proper coffin, when you die? I don’t have such a coffin, but I’ll make them. Give me one!” Her voice rose in desperate self-promise.
The idiot one had led Michael to an old man in a corner, lying on some newspapers, smoking an opium pipe. He was oblivious of their presence, never once did he look at them. A woman, bent almost double, came up to Michael to ask for money. Michael looked quizzically at her, not understanding what she wanted.
The pandemonium was brief, but it would be recollected, years later, in its every painful detail. An old man moaned, an old woman screeched when the party burst in upon them – Angela hysterical and shouting, “There they are! There they are!” Boon going straight to Michael who clung to the idiot, refusing to let go, Old Mother weeping, “Let me stay. Let me die here. Let me die with Ah Kheem Chae.” Some boxes were toppled in a minor scuffle between Wee Nam and the idiot. A moan arose from the old ones who had shrunk back into darkest shadows.
Angela managed to grab Michael crying all the time, “Oh my darling, my darling, Mummy was so worried for you,” as she scrambled down the hateful steps in this hateful house of decay and death, to the light outside where the white Mercedes gleamed in the bright afternoon sun, waiting.
“Oh my poor darling – what have they done to you – ”
She felt his forehead, his neck. “Oh, my God, the fever – ” she sobbed.
The boy struggled for a while, then subsided in her arms, making little piteous noises, crying for his grandmother and Uncle Bock. She saw with horror his lips, bluish, his face, drained. “Take us back first,” she instructed the chauffeur. “Straight to Dr Wong’s clinic. Never mind the others. They will find their way back,” as the commotion in the Death House continued.
Who would believe it, she thought, the angry tears pricking her eyes. How can they do this to my son? and she held the boy, and in her heart the anguish returned, of a son born different, born to thwart and pain his parents.
Chapter 31
It was remarkable, in view of previous events, that the old one’s mind could be so lucid – at least during some of the visits paid her in the hospital. She had been taken home almost raving mad – she had kept crying to be with Ah Kheem Chae and Ah Siew Chae – and then had collapsed. They had rushed her to Saint Luke’s, and now she was in the first class ward of Singapore’s first rate private hospital, actually able to sit up in bed and receive visitors. The rantings had subsided. During those periods when her mind did not wander, it was astonishingly clear, and she asked for this and that, in clear control of death arrangements, for she was now fully convinced that death was impending.
“Do not talk like this, Mother,” said Angela. “You will recover, and you will return home to us.”
“Home!” the old one echoed, in derision. “I have no home.” She gave precise instructions – the inevitable proper coffin, burial next to her husband, an ancestral altar for the honour of her memory. She went through each request carefully, eliciting a promise for its compliance.
Reassured, she sank back on her pillow, exhausted, a frail spent old woman.
The doctors recommended complete rest, but she wanted to see all her family. They came in a continuous stream, and she spoke to each, sadly, earnestly.
All the grandchildren came, except Michael who was ill at home. Angela promised that as soon as he recovered, she would take him to see his grandmother.
Mark came, subdued, uneasy. His grandmother remarked on how tall he had grown. She seemed to have been aware of his recent success in the examinations, for she referred to this and exhorted him to work harder and be a pride to his parents. Mark murmured something, turned to look another way and the meeting was over. His grandmother had stretched out a feeble hand to touch his; he had flinched, but not perceptibly.
Michelle was afraid to look at her grandmother on the sick bed; she had heard that her grandmother had gone mad and was afraid
the old one would leap out of bed and do something terrible. She clung to Angela, but allowed herself to be led up and touch her grandmother’s hands.
Wee Tiong and Gek Choo visited almost every day, and sometimes with all their five children. The four little girls stood in a cluster together, awe-stricken, not daring to talk to the grandmother about whom they had heard such awesome tales. Their mother made them call their grandmother, loudly and clearly; one by one in order of age, they did so, obediently, reverently.
Old Mother smiled feebly to see the grandson, now almost recovered fully from his operations and growing bonnier by the day.
“Grow tall and good, obey your parents; study hard,” she admonished all the grandchildren. She said she wished she had an ang-pow for each of them, but the adults said solicitously, “Oh, please, don’t worry about such things now. We want you to rest well, to get well.”
“When is Michael coming?” inquired Old Mother, but Angela said that the boy was still ill and Dr Wong would not allow him to leave his bed.
“When is Ah Bock coming?” she asked, and Angela had no choice but to fetch the idiot one whom she had been hoping to keep away as long as possible, so that there would be as little disturbance as possible in the hospital room.
Ah Bock came. He ambled into the room, looking around inquisitively and gurgling. When he saw Old Mother, his face suddenly took on an expression of puzzlement, then alarm, as finally it dawned on him that she was very ill and would not be with him much longer.
He went to her bed and wept noisily. Old Mother held his hand and looked sadly at him. She signalled to Angela to go to her; Angela had to put her ear close to her lips, for now her voice was getting faint.
“My jewels, whatever money I have,” rasped Old Mother, “let Ah Bock have them if none of you has any objection.” Angela nodded. “This jade bangle,” she said, feebly lifting the wrist where the band of jade glistened, exquisite in its translucent greenness, “it’s for Michael. Tell him it’s almost totally green now.” She smiled faintly. Angela nodded.
Old Mother slipped into a long sleep and woke up to talk, as in conversation with an unseen visitor.
“You have come,” she said with a faint smile. “You have come for the last time. But all is well now, so you don’t have to worry about me any more.”
Her eyes opened a little wider, and she said, a little testily, “Don’t you ever benefit from all that food I’ve been giving you? You are as thin as ever! Indeed, you look thinner with each visit.”
She slipped again into sleep.
“Oh, I hope it won’t come, I pray God it won’t,” murmured Angela fervently, thinking of the telegram Boon had received that morning from Australia. But it did, and it exceeded all the other requests in the intensity of its urgency.
“Send for Ah Siong. I must see him.”
“Ah Siong is coming, mother. He says he’s coming. We received a telegram from him this morning.”
“Ah, then I shall see him before I die!” said Old Mother with a sigh, and closed her eyes.
Angela held a quick urgent consultation with the others. They had seen Ah Siong or rather Brother Toh’s telegram, for he would be known by no other name now.
“What shall we do?” said Angela helplessly. “She doesn’t know it. He’s sure to kill her, with all his maniacal obsession of converting people on their death-beds.” For indeed, the telegram spoke of death-bed conversion, the ultimate triumph of good over evil, the final snatching of a soul for the Lord on the brink of its damnation.
“Perhaps he won’t arrive in time,” said Boon. “She’s sinking fast.” Wee Nam said nothing; Gloria had returned home from hospital, but had to be hospitalised a second time, owing to complications resulting from her miscarriage. Wee Nam looked wan, lost.
“What is this thing about the police in Australia going after the sect?” asked Wee Tiong. “Perhaps that will prevent him from coming.”
“It seems that a lot of complaints were made by parents whose children had been drawn into the sect,” said Angela. “The children were running away from home or holding prayer meetings and even exorcism sessions in school. Ah Siong is in the thick of it. Somebody tells me that he’s intent on converting his former lover, the Australian divorcee. He’s found her and gives her no peace.”
The discussion ended with no more than the general hope that the youngest son would not return in time, and with their all going, in a body, to reassure the old one that he would.
“Please God, help her, don’t let anything more happen to disturb her peace of mind,” prayed Angela in the fullness of sorrow and pity.
They received another telegram that evening.
AM COMING HOME. MARILYN BROUGHT BACK TO THE LORD. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED FOR CHRIST. NOW FOR HOME. BROTHER TOH.
Chapter 32
“The Lord Jesus comes to save!” cried Brother Toh, holding aloft the cross of salvation on which God hung in desolation, crowned with thorns, nails driven into His palms and feet. “The Lord Jesus comes to save!” Brother Toh’s voice quavered with the passion of conviction and with pity for sinful brethren, resisting the Lord’s love.
His hair, parted in the middle, hung stiffly to his shoulders; the straggly moustache and beard, and the gaunt features gave him the aspect of a saint, an ascetic sallying forth from his hermit’s cell in the desert to love and save. The white long-sleeved robe, fraying at the edges, and the rough sandals, road-worn, spoke of tireless efforts in the fields of harvest, to garner yet one more soul for the glory of the Lord.
“Where’s Mother?” demanded Brother Toh, cross still held high. “Where is she? The Lord Jesus Christ calls to her. He will save her! He will save her from the darkness of superstition and sin in which she is engulfed and bring her forth into the light! Where is she?” Nobody dared to tell him that Old Mother was at that very moment in the temple, offering gifts of fruit and scented flowers to the Thunder deity, clasping reverential joss-sticks before the deity on his altar.
“Ah, you too, Satan is in you! Begone, Satan!” exclaimed Brother Toh as the idiot appeared and moved towards him, gurgling, childish curiosity provoked by the sight of the cross with the Christ figure, by the sight of the gaunt, erect, white-robed figure with long hair and straggly beard. The idiot slobbered, gurgled, made to touch the white robe.
“Satan, begone!” Brother Toh’s voice quavered imperiously.
He made the idiot kneel at his feet, which the idiot did, first turning round to look at the others, with his imbecile grin of pleasure. Brother Toh laid his hands on the idiot’s head, closed his eyes and said in clear, ringing tones, his face lifted to Heaven, “O Jesus Christ, Our Saviour, have mercy on this man, the humblest of your creatures. Drive out the evil one in him and restore him to your love and mercy, O Lord Jesus Christ. Let not the evil one gain ascendancy in the soul of this, your humblest of creatures – ”
Brother Toh’s eyes opened suddenly; the glint of the metal cylinder on the red string round the idiot’s neck must have penetrated his eyelids. With a roar of wrath, he yanked the evil object from the idiot’s neck; then holding it high for all to see, he cried out, thunderously: “See here, see the symbol of Satan’s power. In one hand is the symbol of mercy, love and salvation and in the other, the sign of Satan’s evil and of his power on earth! What shall I do with it? I shall trample upon it, as I shall trample upon the most poisonous of serpents and crush their very heads! There!” Brother Toh flung down the cylinder, still with the red string attached, and stamped on it, repeatedly. Panting, he turned to the idiot one and cried, in a voice of triumph, “There, Brother Bock! You are saved now! The Lord Jesus has saved you! Satan has been vanquished and he now flees, howling, back into his den of darkness and iniquity. But be careful,” he warned, eyes glittering, “be alert, for he comes back, soon, to see which souls he can snatch away from the Lord Jesus Christ. Be vigilant, my brothers and sisters! Now, Brother Bock, we shall kneel down together and pray to thank the Lord for your deliverance from e
vil.” But the idiot, on whom the loss of his beloved cylinder had finally dawned, began to howl. He made to retrieve the object, but Brother Toh kept it resolutely under one foot, eyes glittering menacingly. The idiot grovelled on the ground, made piteous sounds, but was each time beaten away by the crucifix-wielding Brother Toh. Finally he got up, still howling, and went to Michael for comfort.
“Oh please, oh God, why is all this happening – ” gasped Angela.
Brother Toh’s eyes swept over them; they alighted on Michael, on the spot where the shape of a cylinder showed beneath his tight-fitting sports shirt.
“Aha, you too, Michael!” he cried, and rushed toward the boy, forced his hand into the shirt and pulled out a similar metal cylinder. With a tug, he tore off the red string easily.
Oh, no, thought Angela, feeling very sick. I threw that thing away into the dustbin, how did Mikey retrieve it?
“Satan, Satan everywhere!” thundered Brother Toh, trampling on the second cylinder. Now his wrath broke forth in all its power. “Satan in the midst of my very own family, my very flesh and blood? What is to be done? I’ll tell you what must be done! Come forth, all you who have transgressed, who have conspired with the powers of darkness, come forth, confess and be cleansed!”
“CONFESS AND BE CLEANSED!” The room reverberated with the roar; the idiot, shaken, clung to Michael who held tight to him. Angela was weeping. Gloria tried to hide behind her, terrified by the fury of this man of God.
“I myself was once a sinner,” said Brother Toh, looking around the frightened faces with defiance. “I gave in to the lusts of the flesh, I was Satan’s follower. But Jesus Christ has redeemed me, and I, as his true follower, will redeem you, you my own family, trapped by the powers of darkness and superstition.”
“You too,” he said, turning his eyes on Gloria who gave a little scream of terror. “Come, give that to me! It’s a superstition, a symbol of servitude to the powers of darkness!” He wrenched the rosary from her and flung it out of the window. A strangled sob escaped from Gloria.
The Catherine Lim Collection Page 16
