Love in the Singapore way
“I don’t want us to be just like another Singaporean couple. It is just not in my blood!”
At that moment when I heard this coming from a friend of mine, I pondered about how loaded this line was. “Not in my blood” still rang very clearly in my ears, like the cry of the alarm clock that persistently reminds you of the reality even after you have snoozed it. It did not impact me much in the way any other girl would have been affected. I could not show any empathy, after all I have never been in her shoes — the frustration or the near-desperation to want to tear down any wall which I’m very sure she would and could , if the exasperation she has been feeling could be transformed into physical strength.
I believe I looked away then, wondering to myself whether I could deal with this — the whole Singapore way of loving.
this seems like the photo they always use in ST whenever they report anything related to love & relationships in singapore. haha.
From the man’s perspective, it is not that much optimistic either. I was on another occasion, “window-shopping” with a friend before we parted ways, me for the next appointment and he for a date with his girlfriend.
“So what do you usually do when you meet your girlfriend?”
He hesitated for a moment and before he could answer, I said almost stiffly, “You will have dinner with her, window-shop for a while, before catching your movie,” he stared at me probably at my brilliance, “Right?”
In his own defense, he lamented, “Oh, but Singapore is really boring. There is nothing much to do here.”
My cynicism escalated. To my friend, I managed a weak smile, incapable of asserting the views of an ideal anymore.
Last Saturday, the story of a national leader and his wife resurfaced at the passing of the wife. Their romance blossomed right here in the “dull”, “boring” Singapore. I happened to catch the tribute to Mrs Lee on Channel 8 while I was at a housewarming party. One particular scene from the tribute is now very deeply etched in my mind.
I can’t remember how it started but Mrs Lee hobbled over to MM Lee just before the camera started rolling for an interview. She was having difficulty stablising herself but she took delicate steps towards MM Lee who was already seated at an armchair. She reached out for MM Lee’s head without a moment of hesitation.
Her pale, frail and I believe, fearless hands did the work — the tireless devotion of a woman to the love of her life. She started tapping his head lightly with an oil blotting sheet.
“What’s that?” MM Lee questioned, slightly alarmed at her initiative as he had not seen what she was holding.
“It is just a cloth,” she said dryly as she continued wiping his forehead.
“Oh,” he smiled blissfully and then, decidedly, he closed his eyes.
He surrendered to his wife’s gesture of adoration.
The leader of our nation, a man who is known for his frank and confrontational style; for his toughness closed his eyes, revealing to all the officials and press present that intimate, personable side of him — that part of him that did not worry about politics and economic issues; that part of him who wanted to be entirely accountable for his Choo and nothing else.
When Mrs Lee was done, he laughed heartily. His eyes were twinkling just with that tinge of embarrassment.
“She is my director.”
My director, I thought in amazement! He said it with good humour and conviction. This was a relationship born and bred in Singapore and the couple, never mind that they are both extraordinary individuals, just like an typical Asian, Singaporean couple, they would have to go through the trials and tribulations of fitting themselves (the post-Brit-educated rebels, I imagine) into the mould.
I thought of the encounters and conversations mentioned above with my friends about the Singapore couple. And also soon after, the jadedness towards the Singapore’s way of loving started to subside; the doubt I had towards our ability to express ourselves and to be romantic just did not matter any more.
A friend once remarked, “Why no one ever romanticises Singapore?”
I asked this question to my exchange friends back I was in Netherlands when everyone was lapping up the wonders of Europe.
One of them said in jest, “Paris is really very romantic. The Tulleries gardens… The locks on the bridge… The couples lying on the grass or kissing at every street corners! We do not have the environment nor the ambience. Nothing like that.”
I mean, really? Do you really think that romance can be cultivated from the construction of hardware? A Helix bridge, a swanky-looking Marina Bay Sands or (what’s that walk called) the Esplanade waterfront?
I do not know the answer, but what I do know is that in that long, drawn-out, placid, laid-back, undramatic typically Singaporean relationship, there is romance.
I looked around at the couples around me. Yes, they do the routine, i.e. watch movie lah, eat dinner lor, study together, sigh (sometimes I wish they will break out of the routine) but occasionally, you may catch that tiny flicker of romance right smack in Orchard Road — that mentality of “if i can keep you company down this stretch of road of malls and shops, you must give me credit and the trust that I can walk with you for the rest of your life.”
I think romance here just needs a bit more inferences.
Our way of loving while is terse and subtle, its capacity is not any less than what is often effused in a hyperbolic fashion in films, novels and to put it simply, other people’s stories. And just maybe if we stop cross-referencing to those, we can love in the Singapore way without shame and with content.
Taking two steps behind the man; reveling in the simple pleasures of life and having the faith that when you are on your deathbed, your man knows your favourite poems by then and would read them to you* — if that’s the way we love in Singapore, even with no McDreamy sweeping you off your feet with his enigma; or no Paris Je’ Taime or no crazily hot Mr Big who can buy you Jimmy Choos, I may just eat my words and subscribe to it.
Well at last, in the spirit of love and romance and whatnot, this is my favourite song of the moment -
Enjoy (:
*’She understands when I talk to her, which I do every night,’ he said. ‘She keeps awake for me; I tell her about my day’s work, read her favourite poems.’
- MM Lee
P.S. I have been wanting to write about this ever since Mrs Lee passed away.
