He follows his father back to the kittangi* to help him tend to the business of money lending. Legal business, this, 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, on his rounds.
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 don'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 on the cool mosaic-tiled floor, under the arching roof,
listening to stories the men exchange, of their families, the weddings to arrange, their eagerness to sail home to India.
He goes to sleep, dreamimg of sailing the Rajula*, 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 to Singapore first then back to Ipoh to his guardians and the longing to come right back to Singapore and his father.
Notes: This is based on memories my dad told me of his childhood shuttling between Ipoh, Singapore and Chennai
*Kitangi was where Chettiars would stay, communal living among men who worked there in the day as financiers and slept at night.
* Pillayar Suli is a symbol drawn at the head of any writing to invoke a prayer to the elephant god, Ganesha, also known as a Pillayar.
* Rajula was a passenger ship that travelled from Singapore to India and back.
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