day in the 60s

Home for the holidays from Ipoh,

he runs to meet his dad

at the railway station, 

crisp in his white dhoti..

He follows him back to the kittangi where he helps with the tending.

to the business of money lending.

Legal business,

not owe $ pay $ red paint terror,

but at low writing desks in rows

in a shophouse attached to the temple,

with meticulous records in miniscule writing 

on cards, each with a pillayar suli at the top

the informal banking system recorded in Sec 1 History books.

He starts his day with prayer, coffee,

then walks the town with dad, from Market Street to Finger Pier. 

When his eldest brother is in town, 

he hops on a double decker bus 

to catch the latest John Wayne film 

at the Rex cinema.

His brothers's cool friends may have been annoyed 

at a kid brother tagging along, 

but didn't show it. 

He wears the sunglasses 

his brother has gifted him 

with a swagger to match 

the side burns he is trying to grow

Then 'home' again, 

to unroll his bedding and sleep, 

one among the rows of men, 

on the cool tiled floor under the green roof

listening to stories the men exchange,  of their families in India, 

the weddings to arrange,

their eagerness to catch the Rasulla home, two weeks by sea.

He goes to sleep, 

dreamimg of sailing the Rasulla, 

seeing his mother and sisters

who would welcome him arms wide open 

and feed him idli and podi, his favourite food. 

He wakes up before he has to dream 

of the sorrow of parting 

at the end of two weeks, 

to return home to Singapore first  

then back ipoh to guardians

and a longing 

to come right back home

to continue his studies

his heart all here with his dad

and India with his mum