Something to think about
A 15-YEAR-OLD Singaporean, competing against 16- to
18-year-olds, has won the top prize in a writing contest that drew
5,300 entries from 52 countries. In the annual Commonwealth Essay
Competition, AmandaChong of Raffles Girls' School
(Secondary/highschool)chose to compete in the older category and won
with apiece on the>restlessness of modern life.Her short story, titled
What The Modern Woman Wants, focused on the conflicting values between
an old lady and her independent-minded daughter.Through my story, I
attempted to convey the uniqueEast-versus-West struggles and
generation gaps that I felt were characteristic of young people in
mycountry,' said Amanda, who likes drama, history and literature and
wants to become a lawyer and a politician. Chief examiner Charles Kemp
called her piece a 'powerfully moving and ironical critique of modern
restlessness and its potentially cruel consequences'. The writing is
fluent and assured, with excellent use of dialogue.
>
>Amanda gets (S$1,590). A Singaporean last won the top
prize in 2000,
>said Britain's Royal Commonwealth Society, which has
been organising
>the competition since 1883. Singaporeans also came in
second in the
>14- to 15-year-old category, and fourth in the
under-12s.Other
>winners included students from Australia, Canada and
South Africa.
>
>==========================================================
What the Modern Woman Wants By Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen
The old woman sat in the back seat of the magenta
convertible as it careened down the highway, clutching tightly to the
plastic bag on her lap, afraid it may be kidnapped by the wind. She
was not used to such speed, with trembling hands she pulled the seat
belt tighter but was careful not to touch the patent leather seats
with her callused fingers, her daughter had warned her not to dirty it,
'Fingerprints show very clearly on white, Ma.'
Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on
her sleek silver mobile phone using big words the old woman could
barely understand.'Finance' 'Liquidation' 'Assets' 'Investments'...
Her voice was crisp and important and had an unfamiliar lilt to it.
Her Bee Choo sounded like one of those foreign girls on
television. She was speaking in an American accent.
The old lady clucked her tongue in disapproval. 'I
absolutely cannot have this. We have to sell!' Her daughter exclaimed
agitatedly as she stepped on the accelerator; her perfectly manicured
fingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in irritation.
'I can't DEAL with this anymore!' she yelled as she
clicked the phone shut and hurled it angrily toward the back seat.The
mobile phone hit the old woman on the forehead and nestled soundlessly
into her lap. She calmly picked it up and handed it to her
daughter.
'Sorry, Ma,' she said, losing the American pretence
and switching to Mandarin. ' I have a big client in America. There
have been a lot of problems.' The old lady nodded knowingly. Her
daughter was big and important.
Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view
window, wondering what she was thinking. Her mother's wrinkled
countenance always carried the same cryptic look.The phone began to ring
again, an artificially cheerful digital tune, which broke the
awkward silence.
Hello, Beatrice! Yes, this is Elaine.' Elaine. The
old woman cringed. I didn't name her Elaine. She remembered
her daughter telling her, how an English name was very important
or 'networking',Chinese ones being easily forgotten. 'Oh no, I can't
see you for lunch today. I have to take the ancient relic to
the temple for her weird daily prayer ritual.'
Ancient Relic. The old woman understood perfectly
it was referring to her. Her daughter always assumed that her
mother's silence meant she did not comprehend. 'Yes, I know! My car seats
will be reeking of joss sticks!' The old woman pursed her lips
tightly, her hands gripping her plastic bag in defense.
The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard.
It looked almost garish next to the dull sheen of the ageing temple's
roof. The old woman got out of the back seat, and made her
unhurried way to the main hall. Her daughter stepped out of the car in her
business suit and stilettos and re-applied her lipstick as she made
her brisk way to her mother's side. 'Ma, I'll wait outside. I
have an important phone call to make,'she said, not bothering to hide
her disgust at the pungent fumes of incense.
The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a
joss stick, she knelt down solemnly and whispered her now familiar
daily prayer to the Gods. Thank you God of the Sky, you have given my
daughter luck all these years. Everything I prayed for, you have
given her. She has everything a young woman in this world could
possibly want. She has a big house with a swimming pool, a maid to help
her, as she is too clumsy to sew or cook. Her love life has been
blessed; she isengaged to a rich and handsome angmoh man (redhead
man - "white man"). Her company is now the top financial firm and
even men listen to what she says. She lives the perfect life. You
have given her everything except happiness. I ask that the gods be
merciful to her even if she has lost her roots while
reaping the harvest of success. What you see is not true,
she is a filial daughter to me. She gives me a room in her big house
and provides well for me. She is rude to me only because I affect
her happiness.A young woman does not want to be hindered by her old
mother. It is my fault.
The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in
her eyes.Finally, with her head bowed in reverence she planted
the half-burnt joss stick into an urn of smouldering ashes.
She bowed once more.
The old woman had been praying for her daughter for
thirty-two years.
When her stomach was round like a melon, she came to
the temple and prayed that it was a son. Then the time was ripe and
the baby slipped out of her womb, bawling and adorable with fat
thighs and pink cheeks, but unmistakably, a girl. Her husband had
kicked and punched her for producing a useless baby who could not work
or carry the family name. Still, the woman returned to the temple
with her new-born girl tied to her waist in a sarong and
prayed that her daughter would grow up and have everything
she ever wanted.Her husband left her and she prayed that her daughter
would never have to depend on a man.
She prayed every day that her daughter would be a
great woman, the woman that she, meek and uneducated, could never
become. A woman with nengkan; the ability to do anything she set her
mind to. A woman who commanded respect in the hearts of men.
When she opened her mouth to speak, precious pearls would fall out
and men would listen. She will not be like me, the woman prayed as
she watched her daughter grow up and drift away from her, speaking a
language she scarcely understood.
She watched her daughter transform from a quiet girl,
to one who openly defied her, calling her laotu; old-fashioned.
She wanted her mother to be 'modern', a word so new there was no
Chinese word for it. Now her daughter was too clever for her and the
old woman wondered why she had prayed like that. The gods had
been faithful to her persistent prayer, but the wealth and success
that poured forth so richly had buried the girl's roots and now she
stood, faceless,with no identity, bound to the soil of her ancestors
by only a string of origami bank notes.
Her daughter had forgotten her mother's values. Her
wants were so ephemeral; that of a modern woman. Power, Wealth,
access to the best fashion boutiques, and yet her daughter had not found
true happiness.The old woman knew that you could find happiness with
much less.When her daughter left the earth everything she had
would count for nothing. People would look to her legacy and say that
she was a great woman, but she would be forgotten once the wind blows
over, like the ashes of burnt paper convertibles and mansions. The
old woman wished she could go back and erase all her big hopes and
prayers for her
daughter; now she had only one want: That her
daughter be happy. She looked out of the temple gate.
She saw her daughter speaking on the phone, her brow
furrowed with anger and worry. Being at the top is not good, the woman
thought, there is only one way to go from there - down.
The old woman carefully unfolded the plastic bag and
spread out a packet of bee-hoon in front of the altar. Her
daughter often mocked her for worshipping porcelain Gods. How could she
pray to them so faithfully and expect pieces of ceramic to fly to her
aid?
But her daughter had her own gods too, idols of
wealth, success and power that she was enslaved to and worshipped every
day of her life.Every day was a quest for the idols, and the idols
she worshipped counted for nothing in eternity. All the wants her
daughter had would slowly suck the life out of her and leave her,
an empty soulless shell at the altar. The old lady watched
her joss tick.The dull heat had left a teetering grey stem that was
on the danger of collapsing.
Modern woman nowadays, the old lady sighed in
resignation, as she bowed to the east one final time to end her ritual.
Modern woman nowadays want so much that they lose their souls and
wonder why they cannot find it. Her joss stick disintegrated into a
soft grey powder.
She met her daughter outside the temple, the same
look of worry and frustration was etched on her daughter's face. An
empty _expression,as if she was ploughing through the soil of her wants
looking for the one thing that would sow the seeds of happiness. They
climbed into the convertible in silence and her daughter drove
along the highway,this time not as fast as she had done before.
'Ma,' Bee Choo finally said. 'I don't know how to
put this. Mark and I have been talking about it and we plan to move
out of the big house. The property market is good now, and we
managed to get a buyer willing to pay seven million for it. We decided we'd
prefer a cosier penthouse apartment instead. We found a perfect one
in Orchard Road.Once we move in to our apartment we plan to get rid
of the maid, so we can have more space to ourselves...' The old woman
nodded knowingly.
Bee Choo swallowed hard. ' We'd get someone to come
in to do the housework and we can eat out-but once the maid is
gone, there won't be anyone to look after you. You will be awfully
lonely at home and,besides that, the apartment is rather small. There
won't be space. We thought about it for a long time, and we decided the
best thing for you is if you moved to a Home. There's one near
Hougang - it's a Christian home, a very nice one.' The old woman did
not raise an eyebrow. 'I've been there, the matron is willing to
take you in.It's beautiful with gardens and lots of old people to
keep you company! I hardly have time for you, you'd be
happier there.'
'You'd be happier there, really.' Her daughter
repeated as if to affirm herself. This time the old woman had no
plastic bag of food offerings to cling tightly to; she bit her lip and
fastened her seat belt, as if it would protect her from a daughter who
did not want her anymore. She sunk deep into the leather seat, letting
her shoulders sag, and her fingers trace the white seat.
'Ma?' her daughter asked, searching the rear view
window for her mother. 'Is everything okay?'
What had to be done, had to be done. 'Yes,' she said
firmly, louder than she intended, 'if it will make you happy,' she
added more quietly. 'It's for you, Ma! You'll be happier there.
You can move there tomorrow, I already got the maid to pack your
things.' Elaine said triumphantly, mentally ticking yet another item
off her agenda.
I knew everything would be fine.' Elaine smiled
widely; she felt liberated. Perhaps getting rid of her mother would
make her happier.She had thought about it. It seemed the only
hindrance in her pursuit of happiness. She was happy now. She had
everything a modern woman ever wanted; Money, Status, Career,
Love, Power and now,Freedom, without her mother and her old-fashioned
ways to weigh her down...Yes, she was free. Her phone buzzed urgently,
she picked it up and read the message, still beaming from ear to
ear. 'Stocks 10% increase!' Yes, things were definitely beginning to
look up for her...
And while searching for the meaning of life in the
luminance of her handphone screen, the old woman in the backseat
became invisible, and she did not see the tears!
