..A story behind every frame..

SINGAPORE GIRLS WINS COMMONWEALTH ESSAY PRIZE
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, Amanda Chong of Raffles Girls' School (Secondary) chose to compete in the older category and won with a piece on the restlessness of modern life.

Her short story, titled "What The Modern Woman Wants", focused on the conflict in values between an old lady and her independent-minded daughter. 'Through my story, I attempted to convey the unique East-versus-West struggles and generation gaps that I felt were characteristic of young people in my country,' 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.

By Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen

______________________(Start)______________________________

The old woman sat in the backseat 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 seatbelt
tighter but was careful not to touch the patent leather seats with
her calloused 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 backseat. 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 for '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 reapplied 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 is
engaged to a rich and handsome angmoh 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 smoldering 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 banknotes.

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 beehoon 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
cozier 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 hand phone screen, the old woman in the backseat became
invisible, and she did not see the tears..

-------------------(end)-----------------------------

Friday, March 11, 2005

jason went to ponder at 7:14 am,
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Friday, March 11, 2005

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