day 1 bella

v3

for we knew how, for a while, she could have gone out of control

Bella 

Mr Yeo's Bella is a golden retriever, 

3 years old 

She sees me and tugs at her leash

I move towards but also brace myself,

for here she comes. 

Her paws are on my shoulders in  seconds, 

nearing bowling me over,  

then she runs around a few times and leaps up again

I reach out to pet her and she grasps my arm with her teeth,

careful not to clamp down

She spins away her friendly frenzy 

before finally resting heavily on my feet, panting. 

Now she knows I won't be going away she allows herself to be petted. 

I squat down to run my fingers down her heaving back, marvelling at her softnes,

just bathing in the love only a dog can show us, sometimes. 

When i see her, i see different children. 

the one whom parents have to explain, keep a special leash on

because not everyone understands their exuberance and unrestrained expression of love

Once my 6 year old brought her stuffed toy dog to show Bella, 

thinking it would delight her to see another in her likeness.

Mr Yeo's eyes grew wide when he saw the toy puppy energe from behind the little girl's back

but before he could say anything, 

Bella was bounding straight for the child. 

My daughter ran, hugging her own puppy tight, with Bella giving chase, one round then two,

running circles around Mr Yeo and me..

Drop the doll drop the doll he shouts.

but it's her favourite dog dog and she clings on harder. 

finally I jump in grab it and fling it away

and off goes Bella behind it, triumphantly shaking it left and right, for that's what she was after, all along.

it would have been funny it weren't terrifying. Bella is bigger than my daughter. 

it was all a game for her 

she doesn't see Mr Yeo and my daughter and me shaking, 

.

The owners wrests the soggy doll from Bella

we stuff it into our bag out of sight .

 

you cannot show her toys you cannot. you cannot. 

he sounds stern but I know he speaks from love and dread 

we laugh nervously  

all is well 

but we know 

for a second there, maybe 5,

it wasn't that clear it was going to be so. 

Mr Yeo, he loves her, thinks the world of her. 

But she is stronger than him, and he needs to be ready to calm her down at anytime. 

He has to be ever careful and accept that not all will love her and accept her for who she is 

My daughter still plays with her, just never with a toy in sight.  

scroll up and down 

1. bipolar

2. dogs 

Bella the vegetarian golden retriever 

I'm at the pool 

lying in the deck chair,

the blue water rippling 

in the breeeze

when all of a sudden

I see her. 

I practically leap out of my chair 

but control my steps as I walk toward her 

she sees me and tests her leash a bit

I brace myself 

and there it comes! 

she jumps on me, nearing bowling me over 

goes around a few times and leaps up again .tests my arm in her teeth but careful not to clamp down 

she is heavy, 

and in a friendly frenzy 

but she finally calms down and rests heavily on my feet panting 

she knows now I won't be going away anytime soon. 

I run my fingers down her back, marvelling at her softness. 

when i see her i see different children. 

the one whom parents have to explain, keep a special leash on

because not everyone understands their exuberance and unrestrained expression of love

Mr yes, he loves her. anyone can see that. but she stronger than him. and he needs to ready to calm her down at anytime. she gets excited and doesn't realise her own strength. 

Once my youngest daughter brought her stuffed toy, another dog, to show Bella. 

Bella went wild! she started chasing my daughter and she started running round and round the little girl holding the stuffed dog the big dog that is taller than her chasing her excitedly 

the owner yelling drop the toy drop the toy 

but it's her favourite dog dog and the 6 year old doesn't want to 

part with it. I yell at her too drop it. 

and she does 

and Bella heads straight there and grabs it and shakes it 

she has no idea 

it was all a game for her 

she doesn't see her owner and my daughter and me shaking 

for we knew how for a while she could have gone out of control.

the owners wrests the soggy doll from Bella and we stuff it into our bag out of sight 

he says you cannot show her toys you cannot. you cannot. 

and we laugh nervously  and all is well 

but know 

for a second there, maybe 5,

it wasn't that clear it was going to be ok

and that is his life with her

he loves her thinks the world if her 

but he has to be careful and accept not all will lvoe her and accept her for who she is 

she started chasing my daughter round and round the 

little girl holding the stuffed dog 

the big dog, bigger than her, 

chasing her , 2 circles now 3

for we knew how, for a while, she could have gone out of control

in the teain

v2 

‐-‐------

on the train

I'm in the MRT,

hanging on to the handrail,

looking around,

thinking how it might be 

if I was actually cool enough 

to do what I see myself doing 

in my head. 

 

It involves loud music in Tamil, 

cuckoo cuckoo, annakili annakili, and valliamai perandi*, 

a bit of folk,  a bit of rap, and a bit of oppari, 

and me channeling Dhee and Arivu, 

jiving, 

my hands all "whassup, dude" in my face

smooth sliding from one end of the carriage to the other

in tune with the tune in my head,

only,

I know all the camera phones will be trained on me,  and the video uploaded everywhere

well before I'm done.

I see the headlines on social media first and the national papers next - 

"Ministry staff goes crazy, aked to step down and seek help",

"Government to review work load and mental wellness of civil servants", 

everyone everywhere weighing in "the incident", 

interviews which sigh

"She loved her subject but was always a little wild"

when all I was, was, 

happy, inspired and spontaneous, 

and I stop

and write this poem instead. 

*from lyrics to a trending song "Enjoy Enjaami" by Dhee ft Arivu, which at the point of writing this poem has 80 million views on YouTube. 

----

‐------

I'm in the train 

hanging on to the handrail 

thinking 

how it might be 

if I was actually cool enough 

to do what I see myself doing what I'm thinking 

it involves loud music in Tamil, cuckoo cuckoo, annakili, valliamai perandi right.. a bit of folk and a bit of rap and a bit of oppari 

and me doing the moves. chanenling dhee and arica, the swinging the jazzing the hands moving in front of my face- what's up dude- in tune to the song and jiving to the shocked looks of the passengers 

only 

I know I will be videotaped and the video uploaded everywhere before I finish my cool moves 

and some will laugh and some shake their heads and most will point their cameras at me - so thrilled they have one crazy video to upload to get them fame 

and I stop. I see the headlines. moe staff goes a bit crazy. asked to step down for a while to seek help 

a review into work load and mental load of civil servants and everyone everywhere weighing in with them views on what my dance could suggest. 

a sigh. she was so good. loved her subject her teachers. but always a little wild you know.

when all I was was, happy, inspired and spontaneous. 

and I stop and write this poem instead. 

----

thrilled they have a video to upload on ,

bringing them fame for them being in the moment with one crazy lady

with all these kind folk just watching me mouth agape. 

i see some laugh, some shake their heads, some wide open eyes. 

mostly I see camera phones pointed right me- this video will be uploaded

everywhere before I'm done

how to grieve

v3

My 12-year old teaches me how to love and how to grieve. 

Holding my grandmother's pink saree close to her, 

she washes the delicate fabric with her tears.

Her tender age knows no decorum nor obligations,

just the pure expression of love and loss, 

of a beloved great-grandmother.

In this technological age,

she texts her great-grandmother (whose phone is still on earth), 

expressing her gratitude for the money and saree left to her. 

The rupees, in an envelope with her name on it,

converts to one Singapore dollar.

The thought behind it brings her fresh tears, 

for it says 

her great grandmother remembered her.

She receives this gift as manna and not a right. 

She plans to wear the saree for her coming-of-age ceremony, thus keeping her great grandmother with her at this life event. 

What a way to honour and remember a beloved.

Who knows how she may change, as she grows and learns the ways of the world. 

At this precise moment, aged 12, this is how she loves and grieves. 

Teach me, my love, teach me, so I too may grow. 

v2

My 12 year old teaches me how to love and how to grieve. 

Holding my grandmother's saree close to her, 

she washes the delicate fabric with her tears.

Her tender age knows no decorum nor obligations,

just the pure expression of love and loss 

of a beloved great-grandmother.

In this technological age,

she texts her great-grandmother (whose phone is still on earth), 

expressing her gratitude for the money and saree left to her. 

The money converts to one Sing dollar. 

It is not the monetary value that she treasures.

It is the thought behind it that brings her fresh tears, for it says her great grandmother remembered her.

For that, she gives thanks. 

What can be purer than that - to receive every gift as manna and not a right. She teaches me thus to love, to receive and give.

She wishes to wear the saree for her coming-of-age ceremony, thereby keeping her great grandmother with her at this life event. What a way to honour and remember a beloved.

Who knows how she may change, as she grows and learns the ways of the world. 

At this precise moment, aged 12, this is how she loves and grieves. 

Teach me, my love, teach me so I too may grow. 

19 Mar 2021

‐-----

My 12 year old teaches me how to love and how to grieve. 

Holding my grandmother's saree close to her, 

she wets the delicate fabric with her gentle tears.

Her tender age knows no decorum nor obligations,

just a pure expression of love and loss of a beloved great grandmother.

In this technological age,

she texts her great grandmother (whose phone is still on earth), 

expressing her gratitude for the money and saree left to her, 

grateful for tokens of remembrance. 

The money is around 1 Sing dollar 

but it is not the monetary value that she treasures. 

It is the thought behind it that brings her fresh tears, for it says her great grandmother remembered her.

For that that gives thanks, a thanks with no expectations.  

What can be purer than that? To receive every gift as manna and not a right. She teaches me thus to love, to receive and give.

She wishes to wear the saree for her coming of age ceremony, thereby keeping her great grandmother with her at this life event. What greater way to honour and remember a beloved? 

Who knows how she may change, as she grows and learns the ways of the world. 

At this precise moment, aged 1w, this is how she loves and grieves. 

Teach me, my love, teach me so I too may grow. 

settlement

yesterday saro and I had to deal with an employee who resigned and then didn't want to pay the money needed. 

such an interesting conversation 

did share with the girl that she needs to be flexible and go with conversations.

they tried to turn it around and say if we terminate then they don't need to pay. 

we tried to emphasise that in any situation conversation should be the first step in resolving conflict or misunderstanding 

if we had wanted to terminate we would not have done it summararily like this. we would have invited her for a conversation 

we did in fact invite her to have a chat and instead they sent a letter of resignation which they say now was not a letter of resignation haha. but an intention 

then we had to explain what an intention of.resignation letter would look like .. not I wish to resign. look forward to working with you etc! 

language and semantics are important 

she offered a compromise that she would work for free for a month . I nearly fell for that. but I asked.. and talked about trust. trust is a delicate thing and it's been broken now. we laid out how it had been broken. deadlines not kept. messages not answered. resignation letter for invitation to talk. so on what basis can we trust you. 

that got them silent a bit. before we could exore further the husband mentioned going to court and we stopped him. that was our perogative! and we need not even have let him in to this talk. we are understanding and trying to meet them and be reasonable. 

I said he was not helping to build the case of trust with his talk of the law! he is fast jumping ahead constantly.  we ask to talk they resign. now while talking he is talking about law. there are so many steps in between 

we could agree on a few things. 

not a win win thing to work together.  not a right fit. 

we all care about protecting babies and children no qn about that (she just found out she is pregnant). 

we want to move on amiably. 

we explained where we got the figure and that as a business we had to recoup our losses. forget opportunity cost -we could have hired someone else and she left etc. just material costs of 2000 for her salary and 100 for her training 

she said she had been paid 1200. saro confirmed it was 1400 plus cpf 300. so total 2700. 

finally they came down and said what if they paid 1700. for the salary. 

they saw it was reasonable. 

earlier we also talked about the need to be flexible . work life balance is important but some flexibility and open conversations also important. 

amk swimming complex

in Singapore a rarity 

a place unchanged in 35 years 

ang mo kio swimming complex 

vibrant in my youth 

or at least in my memories 

the place looks tired now

but still hopeful 

I watch my 7 year old daughter 

treading water 

so much more confident than myself at that age 

and see her chatting with another pint sized girl while waiting for the coach to tell them what to do 

she makes friends wherever she goes 

swimming class, gymnastics, dance class, karate class. 

the pool was always  a place of excitement for me 

also embarrassment, as I recall how I wore my swimsuit back to front unfamiliar with the crossing over straps 

and my innocent mother trying to send me in swim aged 4 in just shorts 

arguing with the instructor 

but she's just a small girl 

amidst the shades of red these memories bring

I recall some happy spots 

a friend I too had 

karina 

who would do amazing somersaults in the water and walk on her hands while I oohed and applauded by the side 

the stone diving steps still overlook the water, I've stood on them but can't remember being brave enough to leap from them them

now I sit at the broad grandstand structure with just 4 rows. Singapore was smaller then! 

and note the the red bricked facade of the pool and the green hedges that actually as a wall 

pools then for me were bright red walls 

brown grandstands 

Blue Water 

and off white diving boards 

and those little triangular flags 

strung across the pool. 

rough month

 this last month or so has been rough in singapore 

started with the fiery car crash on the 2nd day of CNY - 5 dead in like 10 seconds

Then the terrible blaze at the factory, burning 10 victims, killing 3 of them, 5 in serious conditions 

Then the tree falling on a lady and killing her 

then another fire in a flat affecting 6 people including 3 children 

then a worker killed in a lift accident 

then a child jumping to hear death - P6! 

then workplace deaths a whole slew of them 

the horrific reporting on the murder of a maid -thappened in 2018 but reported now so adds to the whole climate of doom and gloom 

on the personal front, my own grandmother was called to lord Shiva too.