*What the Modern Woman Wants*
*By Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen*
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
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 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 defence. 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 he r 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 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 daughterhad not found true
happiness. The old woman knew that you could find happiness with
much less. When he 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 decid ed 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
houseworkand 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.
