I miss you, Singapore

I miss you, Singapore.

I miss that fat, jolly lady we met in Bugis, who was selling those lovely watches. The one who gave away an animal print watch to Alma and asked her if she needs another  one for her boyfriend ? I remember Alma blushing and saying that she does not have a boyfriend. I remember her gay laughter when she said that she should find one soon.

I miss that young, pretty girl in Clarke Quay who was running this restaurant where she was taking orders, serving, bringing the bill and thanking, all by herself. Her shop was right in front of a plush Persian restaurant where they had a lot of staff, lights, the works. After she served us, she stood in front of her shop with a placard announcing happy hours. I saw her yawning and rubbing her eyes. She was tired. Suddenly a hot looking  dancer started dancing in front of the Persian restaurant. Everyone was attracted to that place like magnets. I saw our young girl watching this quietly. I called her over to ask for our bill. I made sure that I tipped her well. She needed it.

I miss that cab driver who guessed that we were Indians and asked eagerly ‘So how is my friend, Mr. Modi ?’ He seemed to know all about the tea-selling background of our prime minister We laughed while he shared his knowledge about the pot-boiler like Indian politics.

I miss that Indian girl who I met in Kopitiam, while ordering my iced tea. She had guessed what kind of

version of Iced tea in my mind when I ordered one, and told me that I will get another version here. She guided  me with my choices, even when she did not know me.

I miss walking upto Merlion, dazzled by his whiteness and indifference, spouting water, standing supreme, even though he was much smaller in size than I had imagined.  I had thought he would be majestically tall, but he was minutely cute instead. He had expressive eyes, no smile, and a lithe fish body beneath that aggressive face.

I miss those three monks who were talking and laughing while looking at Marina Bay. Their soft, flowing spiritual robes were a sharp contrast to the hard, angular lines of Marina Bay Sands Hotel. As I stood with them, I was struck at the way spirituality and technology have merged in the same frame. 

I miss boiling water in the kettle and making cup-o-noodles with the family around me. Those meals with bland, watery noodles, Britannia cake and potato chips were the best ever, far better than the meals we buy for thousands of rupees in upscale hotels. We would simply pass one cup around, and all four would just dig in our forks and eat from it. 

I miss walking down two blocks with the kids to McDonalds, where our burgers would cost just fifteen dollars, and we would fall on our soft, white beds and eat while watching thriller movies on ‘Fox movies’.

I miss that moment when  we had to take a ride in Universal Studios and drinks were not allowed on the ride. Unfortunately, Sitab had bought a tall glass of some sugary, slushy dink just a minute before and we all were forced to drink that as quickly as possible to finish it off. I remember laughing and making icky noises as we attempted to drink that off in record time. 

I miss the late-night drinks and chips session while we would sit together and talk away, laughing and comparing notes, checking out the photographs of the day.

I miss that stud guy in a shop who had tattoos all over his arms and a punk look. When I asked him if the T-shirts he was selling was for ladies, he looked at me arrogantly and said ‘I don’t serve ladies’. Alma and me smiled and decided that he was the hottest thing ever.

I miss you, Singapore. I will be back.