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Saturday, November 19, 2005
This evening, I went home by the usual route which is along the sheltered pathway leading up to the traffic lights. Near these traffic lights was the ice-cream auntie. She is a common sight every day. But one has to see through this common-ness to feel the slight prick of compassionate pain at the heart. From afar, one would observe her short and plump figure, carelessly clad in an oversized t-shirt and baggy knee-length shorts. She is a lady well in late middle-age. And age did not seem to bestow any bliss on her for if you care to examine her. Her already swarthy countenance is disfigured by an unsightly birth mark -an ugly brown formless shape- permanently embedded in the depths of her skin. And oh her eyes! Her eyes always seemed to conceal a silent, stoic suffering for they emanated an ineffable sadness. This industrious lady would always unfailingly set up her small ice-cream stall at the traffic-lights area in early afternoon, and as she sits or stands, depending on how tired her legs are, she would ring the bell at almost regular intervals to attract attention to her stall. People would walk past her, seemingly oblivious to her presence while occasionally, some would stand at her stall, purchasing an ice-cream waffle or other products. Sometimes, I would buy ice-cream from her and try to start a short casual conversation with her as she prepares my ice-cream. Her stall would stay there well into the late night and I must emphasize the word 'late'. Many a time, when I come home from late outings or prolonged stays in schools at around 11 pm, she would be there still, as if wistfully expecting more customers. And so she toils all day long, earning as much as she could, however meagre her earnings may be. One must wonder what could have necessitated or even motivated this lady to work such long gruelling hours, regardless of rain or shine. I don't know but may I speculate that it could be because she has to maintain an expensive education of her son. I once saw this young teenage boy, not more than fifteen years of age, in TCHS uniform, helping that lady out at the ice-cream stall. It would be natural for anyone to assume the boy to be the lady's son and I did. It was indeed an interesting sight to behold. For one, I would not expect anyone from that prestigious school to have such a humble family background. Also, it surprised me that she had such a young son, considering how aged she looked. Yet, reality suggested a truth far from my imagination that perhaps, she is supporting a disabled family member. Whatever the facts are, I would never know. But I do remember vividly one incident when I bought an ice-cream waffle from her. As I took the waffle from her hands, I commented in Mandarin,"Auntie, it must be tough for you." She did not reply but smiled. A smile that spoke volumes of...sad truths not known to me and perhaps other people, including her family members...her son too. So on this evening, I walked with my mother along this sheltered pathway and saw her...and not far from her, was this ice-cream stall manned by two much younger women in their thirties, selling ice-cream cones or waffles at one dollar for two. At this new stall, it was very much apparent that it was more popular than the auntie's for a small crowd was gathering at this stall. At the auntie's stall, there was none, not a single soul was there to buy her ice-cream. What a wretched sight! My heart took a hard stab and bled. The wound then festered into a new anger. An anger at those thoughtless, selfish women (fucking bitches!) who deliberately set up a competition for an evidently struggling auntie. Yet, anger is helpless. And that gives way to another pain. A pain seeking an answer to an age-old question: Why is there suffering in this world? I know the answer and the knowledge brings tears to my eyes. Posted by |z|r| at |
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