ROW, ROW, ROW YOUR BOAT...


I was at HarbourFront, on my way home from school, when this particular guy caught my attention.

He strode past in front of me, and a whiff of his cologne nearly left me swooning.

I've always liked it when guys have a particular, unique aroma (nice ones, that is. Not BO.) of their own. I really hope my Significant Other would have a scent of his own too - something which I'm able to identify him by; something that's uniquely him and just him. Isn't it just simply cool? I can imagine hugging him close and drowning myself in his clean aftershave or cologne scent. *swoons!!!*

I'm in a fantasizing mode again. Geez...

Anyway, that guy took his seat beside me (I swoon even more and nearly drop dead). But it's not just his cologne that had captured my attention, it's more than that (I'm not THAT superficial, you know).

He is springy and fit, healthy and hale - and the best part is, he has a whole head of white hair.

Yes, this old gentleman in an impressive business suit, is not that young afterall.

His mobile rang, and he answered it in a foreign language. Turns out that he's a Japanese. "Haih! Haih! Yes, haih!" He spoke into his mobile in a respectful manner. Seems like he's on the phone with either his boss or his client.

I'm impressed. VERY impressed.


Isn't it amazing how ironic it is? People who act mighty and superior, when in fact hardly are, earn nothing but disdain and scoffs. Those who are humble and meek at heart, irregardless of their high authority or saluations, are well-loved and respected.

Having witnessed his servanthood heart and humble attitude, I can't help but to feel that this will be a sharp reminder to myself to behave in a better manner.

He alighted at Outram Park station, and another crowd streamed in.


I looked around, and two seats from me, a lady caught my eye. She was writing on a notepad, and kudos to my prowess and proficiency in the Chinese language (ahem ahem!), I managed to catch a sentence or two (not that I peeked sneakily, mind you. Her handwriting was big, okie?).

"I don't have a father.
I have two sisters,
I have a mother.
All are women."


After reading this, I can't help feeling something tugging at my heartstrings. "Is she kidding?" I wondered. I doubt so. She carried on to doodle on the paper, and I caught phrases like "MRT alot of people...".

Peering out of the corner of my eye, I stole a peek at her. She's an adult woman, probably in her late 20s or 30s (I'm totally hopeless at predicting one's age. Try me). I glanced causally at her, but her face was emotionless. "Is she so lonely?', "Is she hurting?", "What is she thinking of and feeling now?" I wondered silently in my heart.

Isn't it frightening at how the past can haunt a person's life? Isn't it a tight slap across the face to witness up front how some certain events/actions/words can impact and affect a person's well-being?

There are so many orphans in this world. There are people dying of starvation in some parts of the country. There are young girls who are forced into child prostitution. There are people dying from illnesses. There are people who live under the threat of violence daily. There are so many life and death issues.

When I look at the people around, their problems, and even my own's, pale so much in comparison. But yet, how loudly are we complaining? Why are we even whining and feeling sorry for ourselves when our problems are so minute?

I feel that we are so complacent, unreasonably uncontented, and totally taking for granted with what we have and what we're blessed with. Ready to take, quick to compromise, and even quicker to compare and complain with the slightest alterations made. Don't we realize how lucky and blessed we are already? Shouldn't we even be thankful for the oxygen that our lungs are able to breathe in?


The train came to Dhoby Ghaut. She stood up, and alighted the train. Watching her retreating back, I suddenly remembered the song that I was singing and humming to myself this morning on my way to school.

I learnt this song from my cousin when he sang it once during our playtime together, and it has been stuck to my brain ever since, thanks to its catchy tune and lively rhythmn.

"Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream.
Merry, merry, merry, merry.
Life is but a dream."


Yeah, right. If only life is a dream.

Sighing lightly under my breath, I tore my eyes off her and returned to focusing my attention on my lecture notes.