His Pain...
I have been a bad son lately. I have been confessing to the whole world how horrible it is to live with my father. However. I have yet to share with you the real man with whom we share this blessed earth with about the enormity of his heart.
Going about the menial and important tasks that he has set out for himself, he seems well and good. That however isn’t the case if we scratch beneath that calm surface.
My father is a man in pain. This pain that he bears is not the illness that he suffered few years ago. This pain is caused by one of my brothers.
It is with great pain that I share this with all of you. It is not an expression of washing one’s dirty linen in public. But it is vindication of my father’s pedestal in this life that he deserves. This will be done by sharing his pain with all of you.
This is how it began.
While I was away in Perth a lot of things happened in Singapore. My brother, let us just call him the Bastard, got married to a crazy psychotic girl whom I shall introduce as the Bitch.
In the middle of 2003, the Bastard bought the apartment the whole family had been living in since 1978. Having a share of the apartment, I agreed to it because I thought it would greatly help with the expenses. Things went smoothly during that time until the Bastard got married to the Bitch.
Firstly my father had invested some money into the Bastard’s Bridal Photography business. I wasn’t consulted when this decision was made but I suppose I should let it slide. For I thought blood is thicker than water.
At this point of time, he had appointed his wife, the Bitch as a partner in the firm in which she has no monetary investment. Fine…
And then he bought a car. A Mitsubishi Lancer to be exact. To my international audience I would just like to mention the fact that cars in Singapore are about 300% more expensive than the most of the rest of the world.
Carrying on from there, Mr Bastard had bought the car using the old man’s money. He somehow had managed to convince my father to part with his some of his money by implying the benefits of having a car, such as ‘I will drive to work’. Nice. Well, whatever it was, again, I wasn’t consulted. Fine again…
And then my parents went for their second Haj Pilgrimage. It was then things start to get really interesting.
But before I go any further let me state one thing.
This is how my family works. Being a family of 11; a set of parents, 6 brothers, and 3 sisters, ownership over objects like clothes are shared. I am sure a lot of people in big families would understand this.
In the meantime, the Bastard and the Bitch had been living under the same roof as every one else (well excluding my two married sisters).
Well the ownership issue became a really big issue. It extended right to the pots and pans. Imagine even the pots and pans became an issue. I thought that stuff only happens to couples who are going through a divorce.
Of course, eventually my parents returned from Haj. Even then things never reverted back to its supposed normalcy. The damage has been done.
By that time, my brother began to dislike a lot of things that he used to like, just because the psycho bitch didn’t like it. He finds more things to be offensive with. At this point of time I would like to state that I am not diverting the blame on the psycho aka the Bitch even though she probably has played a part. Meanwhile, when all of these have been happening, she was pregnant.
Because the bitch was now pregnant, she began to display her displeasure of not having the master bedroom that has the adjuncting bathroom.
Uncomfortable became downright awkward.
As it is, to state that the relationship deteriorated between my family and Mr. Bastard and Mrs. Bitch is an understatement.
So when uncomfortable became downright awkward, the apartment, which is now not officially owned by my parents, my siblings knew they all had to move out.
Thus, here we are now.
My father, instead of living in that nicely renovated apartment that was funded by his retirement fund, had been banished to this place.
Imagine his pain folks. Imagine his pain.
My dear friends, let me end this post by posting a poem that he wrote for me when came to be in December 1973. i translated it from Malay for my final year thesis. It’s called:
SEED 3
Father
Prays his seed becomes a universal man
Mother
Wishes her unborn will embody beauty
Determined by the hands of
The Maker
Ensured by the Almighty
In pomp and circumstance the flag bearer arrives and stands
In an obvious event the manly protector of angels lands
He shall be the opponent of anti democracy
He shall be the upholder of His Legacy.
His chaste heart will shine
His friendships will illuminate
A speck of humanity one will locate
And the spread of eternal love.
Woodleigh Park
December 1973
Going about the menial and important tasks that he has set out for himself, he seems well and good. That however isn’t the case if we scratch beneath that calm surface.
My father is a man in pain. This pain that he bears is not the illness that he suffered few years ago. This pain is caused by one of my brothers.
It is with great pain that I share this with all of you. It is not an expression of washing one’s dirty linen in public. But it is vindication of my father’s pedestal in this life that he deserves. This will be done by sharing his pain with all of you.
This is how it began.
While I was away in Perth a lot of things happened in Singapore. My brother, let us just call him the Bastard, got married to a crazy psychotic girl whom I shall introduce as the Bitch.
In the middle of 2003, the Bastard bought the apartment the whole family had been living in since 1978. Having a share of the apartment, I agreed to it because I thought it would greatly help with the expenses. Things went smoothly during that time until the Bastard got married to the Bitch.
Firstly my father had invested some money into the Bastard’s Bridal Photography business. I wasn’t consulted when this decision was made but I suppose I should let it slide. For I thought blood is thicker than water.
At this point of time, he had appointed his wife, the Bitch as a partner in the firm in which she has no monetary investment. Fine…
And then he bought a car. A Mitsubishi Lancer to be exact. To my international audience I would just like to mention the fact that cars in Singapore are about 300% more expensive than the most of the rest of the world.
Carrying on from there, Mr Bastard had bought the car using the old man’s money. He somehow had managed to convince my father to part with his some of his money by implying the benefits of having a car, such as ‘I will drive to work’. Nice. Well, whatever it was, again, I wasn’t consulted. Fine again…
And then my parents went for their second Haj Pilgrimage. It was then things start to get really interesting.
But before I go any further let me state one thing.
This is how my family works. Being a family of 11; a set of parents, 6 brothers, and 3 sisters, ownership over objects like clothes are shared. I am sure a lot of people in big families would understand this.
In the meantime, the Bastard and the Bitch had been living under the same roof as every one else (well excluding my two married sisters).
Well the ownership issue became a really big issue. It extended right to the pots and pans. Imagine even the pots and pans became an issue. I thought that stuff only happens to couples who are going through a divorce.
Of course, eventually my parents returned from Haj. Even then things never reverted back to its supposed normalcy. The damage has been done.
By that time, my brother began to dislike a lot of things that he used to like, just because the psycho bitch didn’t like it. He finds more things to be offensive with. At this point of time I would like to state that I am not diverting the blame on the psycho aka the Bitch even though she probably has played a part. Meanwhile, when all of these have been happening, she was pregnant.
Because the bitch was now pregnant, she began to display her displeasure of not having the master bedroom that has the adjuncting bathroom.
Uncomfortable became downright awkward.
As it is, to state that the relationship deteriorated between my family and Mr. Bastard and Mrs. Bitch is an understatement.
So when uncomfortable became downright awkward, the apartment, which is now not officially owned by my parents, my siblings knew they all had to move out.
Thus, here we are now.
My father, instead of living in that nicely renovated apartment that was funded by his retirement fund, had been banished to this place.
Imagine his pain folks. Imagine his pain.
My dear friends, let me end this post by posting a poem that he wrote for me when came to be in December 1973. i translated it from Malay for my final year thesis. It’s called:
SEED 3
Father
Prays his seed becomes a universal man
Mother
Wishes her unborn will embody beauty
Determined by the hands of
The Maker
Ensured by the Almighty
In pomp and circumstance the flag bearer arrives and stands
In an obvious event the manly protector of angels lands
He shall be the opponent of anti democracy
He shall be the upholder of His Legacy.
His chaste heart will shine
His friendships will illuminate
A speck of humanity one will locate
And the spread of eternal love.
Woodleigh Park
December 1973
Finger Acrobatics Performed
On Sunday, August 13, 2006 at 3:34 am.
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