The Commonwealth Essay Competition
1st prize - Class A
What the Modern Woman Wants
By Amanda Chong
Wei-Zhen (RGS)
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 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 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 stick. 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 intothe
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.
From TJV:
Hope we don't become like this, man or woman, boy or
girl...
