Life, Laughter and Everything Else

  There is this man I see often at the S bahn station. He sits on a wheelchair just near the stairs that lead down the train from the Hackesher Markt s bahn station. At first glance, from the state of his dressing,   you would think he is one of the many beggars on the streets of Berlin, but he is not.  He makes stars.   Sitting there, I usually see him patiently folding paper into multi-sized, multi-coloured and multi-edged paper stars that he then places around himself. If anyone buys them, I don’t know. If he intended to sell them, I don’t know either.   Though it is a sight, in a corner of the station, a man building a tiny universe, star by star, with him at the center of it.

I remember pondering about the need for marriage during a certain period of my life. Partially inspired by stoicism, I saw a man as an island in a big ocean, continuously being battered by the waves and storms, but holding fort and growing strong with each test. It was also when the idea of monasticism greatly appealed to me, to leave behind, for the lack of a better work, the bullshit of society and trying to attain enlightenment.  Somehow that idea fell apart after a brief meditation stint in a monastery, but the idea of marriage I resisted. The freedom that came from being single seemed too precious to let go. Furthermore life was complicated as it is. Why complicate it further by introducing another person to that life, someone who would bring her own mannerisms, rules, habits, many that might end up conflicting with your own. However, a lot of these ideas and beliefs start to die when friends of yours each start getting into their own relationships and have no more time for yo...

I wonder what it is abut superheroes that captivate every kid and adult alike. Is it because of how they provide fodder for our imagination? It it because they appeal to our innate sense of justice and our desire to fight for it? Or is it because they provide a reprieve from the monotony and routine of human existence?  I am sure at some level everyone of us starts imagining ourselves to be in those same shoes or donning that very cape or arming ourselves with that super cool gadget. Though all of us have our favourites when it comes to choosing these heroes, for whatever reasons they may be. Mine was Batman for a long time, not simply because I was so impressed by Nolan's Dark Night Trilogy and its soundtrack (oh its so important!), but because Batman was human just like the rest of us. In other words he was the most relatable among the bunch. And then they released Black Panther. There he was the dark suited superhero played back Chadwick Boseman, a character exuding more coolnes...

 It was a night without a plan, a night when the Italian restaurant was fully reserved, when the walk had to be called off because my meeting went on for too long, when we could not decide between Indian or Thai food. Eventually we would decide to order in and between placing the order and its delivery was a lengthy gap that had to be filled. "Acho, do you have wine?", I inquired, knowing full well he may not like the idea of my sisters partaking in the drinking. "There is some in the fridge", he acquiesced. I took out the wine glasses, the very first time the crystalline objects were taken out in the house in the absence of any guests. Then the 5 glasses were filled while the whole family sat around the rectangular teapoy in the living room, every one distracted in their own device, expecting yet another uneventful evening of forgettable conversations and arguments. "How about truth or dare?", she suggested. There was not enough alcohol for the game but s...

Your father pokes in just your head through the kitchen door He knows I love it when he does that You stare at me with those big blue eyes You have seen me sitting here before Having the same breakfast day after day Yet you look at me curious, intrigued, unfamiliar I cannot help but smile Like you are the first rays of sunshine in a cold German sky Those big blue eyes, those fluffy cheeks, Those chubby hands and feet Your attempts at speaking that comes out as a shout Incomprehensible yet screaming Here I am. Look at me. Your sweet, addictive smile Your heartfelt , genuine laugh That makes me want to do The strangest of dances The stupidest of voices The most childish of actions The most idiotic of gestures All so I can make you laugh Just one more time. One day you shall grow up By when I would have gone my way. If you were ever to feel one day And one day you will That your life was worth nothing That it had no meaning Reme...

It was something that I was certain of. While friends with new jobs and newly found riches started looking for nests of their own, which they could furnish as they wanted, where they could play music as loud as they wanted and have all the privacy they could wish for, I felt otherwise.  I wanted to be around people. To say I would have been ok being around any kind of people would be an exaggeration. After having lived in student dormitories where people did not clean up the kitchens or toilets after they used it, I was painfully aware of how living with the wrong type of people could make the experience  absolutely horrible. However, assuming there was a certain level of respect and shared responsibility, that experience could be flipped. Not only could it be flipped, but it was evident to me how the constant presence of other people in your life, the conversations you had with them, the stories, moments, things you shared with them almost daily was so critical to my...

I wonder why I came to Berlin at times.  Not because I do not love this city, with all its weirdness, energy, loneliness and freedom.  But because every moment I spend here, back home family and friends plan and celebrate marriages, childbirths, new jobs, new houses, new adventures, triumphs and tribulations and I can do nothing but watch from the stands and cheer them on. All the while knowing and paining in my heart that I could and should have been on that field, playing right there with them. To all the ones I could not be there for...

She is startled to see me in the room. Unfortunately, when my physical presence is felt without warning, I have realised that it scares more than it impresses. However, I wait for her still. I do not have that strong of a romantic affection for her, the one where she fills my dreams and my thoughts endlessly, where the longing for someone would spin blissful imaginary tales for the future. An innocent crush would be a more appropriate word, where you like someone, but that liking stops at a certain boundary. For the liking I do have for her is because I feel comfortable around her, a comfort characterised by the need to talk about what is going on in each other’s life. She is like an open book from which the words flow freely and who still possess the empty pages on which I can unashamedly write my own story. I can imagine taking her to bed, but that imagination lacks emotion. Instead, I would rather take her for a walk, to that pretty pastry shop I saw the other day, to the wine...

Save for the acne covered cheeks, he was a fairly good-looking guy. Fair with think jet black hair, he exuded a certain charm that his compatriots did not possess. This was the third time I was seeing him and the second time I would utter something to him. “Are you making pancakes?”, he inquired in an accent that was manifestly not natural to him. It was reminiscent of my own efforts to sound American by tonguing the words. What resulted were words that sounded like they required great, deliberate effort. “I first made pancakes when I was four”, he carried on when I nodded in agreement. The accent had already made the alarm bells in me ring. This made the wail a little louder. I laughed, faking surprise. He returned to conversing with his friends in Hindi. I caught a few words here and there. It appeared to revolve around lesbians, nudity and some indecent acts. “Sex in public. Is that common?”, he exclaimed. There was silence. The sudden turn from Hindi to Englis...

He was the typical American. He was the atypical American. Beyond sports, the weather and his dog, he was able to narrate the story of how he journeyed out of the greatest country on Earth into a small town in Germany to learn German. Confident and cocksure, he was a refreshing change from the earlier conversation I had struggled to maintain with the nerdy German lady. Despite our common interests, a chemistry was missing, something despite both our best intentions, punctuated the conversation with awkward silences. While she excused herself to escape the tedium that was me, he came over and sat at her chair. I mentioned to him that the book that I had bought to the book swap event was a prized catch. ‘The Subtle Art of Not giving a F***’, the black bold and capitalised characters screamed against the bright orange background. The colour accentuated the vulgarity of the title, which was now covered with the yellow sticky notes with the names of the four or five people who wan...

“I was not allowed to fly, so I had to cancel the trip back home”, she said with a tinge of disappointment in her voice. “Why were you not allowed to fly?”, I asked, though I half knew the truth. It would be better to hear it straight from her before I jumped to any conclusions. She smiled and did not reply, and me being me, felt the urge to remove the elephant from the room. “Is it coz of this?”, I questioned while using my hands to carve out a belly bump in the air, though on hindsight it was perhaps not necessary given pointing to my beer belly would have been enough. She quietly acknowledged. Then there was no stopping me. I dug around to find out more details. Here was a woman who was not married and not in a serious relationship who was about to have a kid (not mine). A week earlier I had came across an article about single mothers in Korea who were discriminated against and shunted by the whole family, a situation I would quite associate with all Asian coun...

“Most people I hate. The rest I tolerate”.                                                                                                                    – Everybody Loves Raymond I walked into the kitchen and he was washing his plates at the sink. I nodded a polite Good Morning and waited for him to finish. Feeling something hot behind me, I turned to see the stove turned to the maximum without any dish placed on it. He noticed my annoyance at having seen this, for the second time in a week, and rushed to defend himself. “Its very cold so I turned it on”. Not that I am a staunch environmentalist, but his statement just triggered me. Instead of increasing the heater temperature...

“Dude. He was a total hypocrite….” “He slept with naked young women to test his sexuality…” “He was racist against Africans. He served to protect the interest of high caste Indians and Whites…” “The Indian Independence movement was slowed down by years because of him…” The accusations came like wildfire. I sat there stunned. I had heard some before, but now it was negative after negative. A man who had inspired peaceful, non-violent uprising throughout the world was lambasted as the biggest, most overhyped hypocrite in human history. What made it more interesting was that it came from an Indian. I asked him for sources and he was happy to give me plenty. Some were dubious self-made videos, others were more credible, acknowledging the failings of the man. Though in one such (presumably dubious) videos in a Youtube channel by a guy called Stefan Molyneux, I saw on the right other recommended videos, all stating ‘The Truth” about every other great men in history. Mand...

It would happen in a moment. A conversation that was going fluently would come to an abrupt end and be replaced by another that was familiar yet foreign. I would feel totally lost, unsure how to reinsert myself into the conversation, how to pick it up again. Meanwhile they would continue blabbering away in their mother tongue, effectively excommunicating me from the liveliness. The sense of loss would turn towards anger against the newcomer. Though I should have been used to it by now. In Singapore, experiences like this was quite common. Being a minority, one tended to be forgotten as colleagues and friends would switch to Chinese and I would sit there at a loss for words. Some friends would sympathise and ‘switch to Channel 5’ (an English speaking television channel and the term used to refer to a request to speak English). Sometimes it worked, sometimes it did not, for all needed to agree to this. Interestingly, it was not just Indian friends who would complain about being lost...

I have always been a proponent of spending time alone, far from the security and comfort provided by one’s close family and friends. This time alone was a statement of independence, that of self-sufficiency, a statement that screamed I am strong enough to survive on my own. In addition, time alone meant one was not subject to the whim of one’s companions. I did what I wanted, how I wanted and when I wanted. That was freedom. And so I often traveled alone, planning the itinerary according to my taste and changing it according to my whims. I neither had to wait for the friend who wanted to snap pictures of every other thing neither did I have to inconvenience my budget to his taste. It was great, at least at first. Then it got to the point when the loneliness caught up with me, when as I stared at the majestic monument or scenery in awe, I looked to my right and left and realized there was none to share it with. When I had to use the loo, there was no one to watch over my bag, nei...

You see him at a distance waiting at the bus stop. He appears not to have noticed you, which is quite a relief. It would have been impolite to not approach him had he seen you. However, if you did approach him, you would have had to make conversation, not just for the duration at the bus stop, but also in the bus, on the walk to the MRT and then on the MRT for a few stops until he alighted. The mind seemed to cringe at the idea. Yes he was a nice person but making small talk seemed such a hassle when you could be on your phone or book immersed in a world more pleasurable and friendly to you. But why? To be honest I do not know him that well. He has family, kids, opinions and life stories, all if explored could be more interesting than the cute cat video on Youtube. Why do we shy away from conversation with most people while we have a lot to say to others? Is it a lack of trust? Is it a lack of curiosity in someone else's life? Is he just a boring person? Or are we just conforming...

The weather forecast did not get it wrong this time. It was in blissful ignorance and unfounded hope that I had made my way there for a jog. As I stood in the shelter, I could see the dark clouds hovering above the skyscrapers of Johor across the Johor Straits, clouds that produced the intermittent lightning to warn the human inhabitants of the impending torrent. The winds swayed the tress in front of me. Then I noticed that for the Malaysians, threat had turned to attack. It was no longer a question of if, but a question of when. It started suddenly, as if the clouds on a whim had decided to let go of their contents. Malaysia disappeared from view as the rain hid it away like a curtain.I was stuck in the concrete shelter with a bunch of teenagers, one who had a loudspeaker which blared Malay rock to my annoyance. They were lost in their phones, some smoking away right in front of the 'No Smoking' signs. I waited for my friends to arrive and rescue me, diving my attention ...

"She's been on the phone a lot lately, don't you think? Probably way more than usual", I asked out of genuine concern. It was almost as if she was addicted. "Well we use it a lot too, so we are not in a position to judge", my sister pointed out. Sadly true, but still, when you see someone scrolling through the unending stream of messages received and forwarded by people bored like her, it created some concern. Most of the videos were rubbish (and I was being nice in using that word). The interesting videos dulled our capacity to be surprised by present life, the messages of the good ones were drowned out by the messages of other good ones and the bad ones enraged and shocked us unnecessarily. She had to be rescued from this venom but all the statements pointing out her obsession did nothing more than produce a retort. "Ma, why don't you come and join us for breakfast instead of sitting there by yourself", persuaded my sister. She p...

It starts in the morning. "Hasn't she woke up. Its already 7? She s going to be late again. Why can't she be more responsible?" "Hurry up. You dad is waiting. Drink the juice first".  "But it tastes like crap". "Whats for breakfast?". "Cereal". "Again? Its the weekend!" "Then you come to the kitchen and cook". Complaints. Arguments. Mockery. It was part and puzzle of the package. Put any two people under the same roof and they will find a reason to argue about something. As such, imagine putting five. The modern, globalist single would brand it an outdated institution, one that would limit his freedom and career and replace it with responsibilities and chores. Why bind oneself to one partner? Why have children? Why not just cohabit-ate? Why not just get a pet? Why go through all that trouble? Yes it is chaotic. Yes, it does not always work out the way one wants. Yes I wished he would stop tell...

Put two guys together and at some point, the topic will be about women. This time, the conversation took a more mature and philosophical turn while discussing failed relationships, in particular how in a budding romance, the questions that lingered about who was giving and investing more in the relationship, the expectations that arose out of it and how the failure to meet those expectations would see the castles built in the air crumble and fall. Then he pointed out something about his mother, how she probably influenced his idea of a relationship. To quote his precise words, "I don't understand mothers. How they will complain and complain about giving, and yet they will give and give. And you do something small for them, just something really small, and that makes them so happy". Why?