THE INTELLIGENT SINGAPOREAN

Powered by the Plogosphere

The Confessions of a Singaporean Gangster in London – Chapter 14 “Children whispering in the night.”

Posted by inspir3d on February 19, 2005

I cannot tell you when I started to plan for a life with the third wife – all I can say is, it started very much in the way a prisoner, innocently shifts his bed closer to the wall only to knock it to discover a hollow thud – a wall he once regarded as unbreakable, suddenly yields the possibility of freedom – only for this man to dig away frantically till finally escaping through a tunnel.

My light came quite accidentally, when I chanced upon the third wife one rainy afternoon while she was walking alone in Hyde Park – There was hardly anyone in the park during the week days, so I followed her from a far, along the only gravel path leading up to the stone bridge, she always remained well in my sight.

For some inexplicable reason that afternoon I no longer saw the world in bold splashes but rather with a striking clarity even to make out objects which had previous escaped my consciousness. I was aware of the minuteness detail, the crushing sensation of my feet against the cobble stones, the gentle swaying of the oak trees on either side – the moss along the cobbled path with it’s edges gleaming rich emerald green soaked from yesterday’s rain and even the faint aroma of the third wife.

When she came to the middle of the stone bridge, she stopped – whether this stopping was silent resistance or silent seduction, I cannot tell you for certain – though she had her back to me, she must have known all along I had been following – at such close range the fragrance of her jet black hair carefully dressed and piled into a loose bun, drew me closer – till I came to stand so close as to even feel the warmth her body gave off . When she turned around, still wordless , her nose was wet with tears, and her delicate nostrils flared, her eyes gentle, yet in their midst, a mysterious fire burnt deep within them. When I kissed her first on her neck, she began to shake her head in an attempt to ward me off, but her struggles were so mechanical that instinctively, I knew they were not heartfelt.

As a result of her resistance, when my lips found hers, she keep twisting one way and the other, till somewhere along the way, her resolve suddenly melted away like black ice in fire and she began to settle down. When I tore away and looked at her – because I so wanted to look at the face of love – she looked towards a pavilion at the end of the bridge. Just then a slight rain began and no sooner after making the safety of shelter, the rain began to beat violently against the zinc roof.

In the pavilion light came in through a small window – her desire was unmistakable, as she undid her hair hardly showing the slightest trace of distress. She was even smiling faintly and when I touched her again her face gradually flooded crimson with desire – this time she did not resist me. The winds and rains by this time, picking up speed and increasing in their ferocity even the edge of the zinc roof began to lift and flap violently. Though it hardly mattered, I neither heard or cared for the rain that evening – my heart was completely at rest.

Afterwards she lay in my arms – the rains pattering softly – yet she continue to shed tears – fresh tears of joy – nothing could better convey what passed between us in the instant. In a while, the third wife returned very much to her distant self, sitting calmly in one corner very much consumed in her own thoughts as I was in mine, without even a single hair out of place and her cheong sam in perfect order.

When she raised her eyes and looked at me. A brilliant piercing flash passed between us and in that instant I knew just how she felt – throughout the period, I accompanied her to the car along the cobblestone path she hardly spoke, neither did I and even after opening the door to her car and seeing her off, she hardly ever looked my way.

I imagine it must be very difficult for you to understand how two people who came so close to each other in one moment in time can suddenly find themselves behaving like strangers – perhaps she like I realized we were people cut from the same cloth – people who did not quite own enough of themselves to even give a part of themselves to others – people like us can never speak of the future, or for that matter even the past – all we can really ever do is to live for the moment.

We were like, children whispering secretly in the dark when all that resonates in the house is the deep rest of sleep.

Tomorrow the giants will awake.

Darkness 2002

Advertisements

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.

 
%d bloggers like this: