Today my Dad would have been 88 years old. He lost his own Dad when he was just 8 months old. At 8 years old, he followed his widowed mother to work, deshelling prawns kept in freezing water.
My Dad was 26 years old when his first child contracted childhood polio. He would walk to the Centre for Communicable Diseases at Moulmein Rd daily to check on me. I was 10 month old.
When I was in secondary school, he told me that given my physical disability, there would be activities I wouldn’t be able to keep up with my able bodied peers. And his meagre pay wouldn’t be able to provide the comfort a better resourced parent could.
Therefore I had to study hard so that I could hold a job and pay my own bills in future.
His honesty about our limitations reduced whatever self-pity and shame I might have felt about my leg and our financial struggles.
When I walked those dreaded slopes & tedious stairs to lecture theatres & tutorial rooms in Kent Ridge & Bukit Timah campus, I remembered my Dad’s words – “Pay your own bills.” 😄
Schooling is an uphill task for me both metaphorically & literally. (Kent Ridge)
When the gap between my bus and the curb threatened to topple me, I implored Mother Mary’s help. I also wrote to The Straits Times which published my letter on my challenge alighting from public buses.
When it was time to buy my own flat, my Dad without hesitation, lent me his savings to get started.
My first flat bought with a loan from my Dad in 1999. Blk 3 #07-16 Teban Gardens Rd. View from my current flat. My first flat will lead me to this current flat which I’ve been living in since 2012.
Till this day I can still see him beaming as he told the POSB clerk the reason for the cash transfer.
And so it is my father’s smile that will carry me through while I attempt good deeds in his name & in his father’s name.
My father’s father. He passed away when my father was 8 months old.
When I walk, apart from the physical strain of limping, I’m also mentally drained from having to keep looking out for tripping hazards. Once I slipped on an election flyer just outside my flat. I caught the door in time to avoid landing on my back.
In 1964, about 10 months after I was born, I contracted childhood polio. I spent 3 months in the Centre for Communicable Diseases at Moulmein Road much like these patients in the picture. (Picture Source: Kah Seng)
Long before smart phones, I was already looking down a lot. Awkward drop off points, curbs, uneven tiles & unmarked slopes which ironically are meant to facilitate mobility fill me with anxiety.
In my Alexandra Estate Primary School days, the school dentist was located up the hill where Belvedere Primary School was.
Right hand on the railing, & dragging along my left side up those steps were more dreaded than seeing the dentist.
Our school dentist was in the school building up the hill on the left.
My relationship with steps took on a whole new level when I started university.
Our campus was built on Kent Ridge. Faculties & facilities were linked by series of corridors, steps & stairs.
My youth then & gratitude in qualifying for university gave me the resolve & strength to face those countless steps & endless walkways in order to access lecture theatres, tutorial rooms & library.
For 3 years I limped through it all with nary a whimper, lest my physical condition be seen as a liability.
So I hesitated in alerting the student welfare office to my mobility struggles.
Furthernore, my limp was not considered a disability, but an incapacity.
Being young & anxious to blend & belonged, I did not want to use a leg brace which was also expensive to make, for support. (Outside NUS Central Library, 1985)
These days in my old age, besides still looking down & scanning ahead, I have to listen for cyclists, pmd riders, & children chasing one another.
Caged Freedom: the leg brace which was dreaded in my youth is now my greatest ally. Without it I cannot walk 20 steps without hurting. As clunky as it looks & feels, it opens the doors to yoga, gym & even Nepal!
And I long to shed this armour of hypervigilance soldered onto my psyche since childhood.
Recently this aspiration led me to the Singapore Botanic Gardens.
Behind me is the fig tree whose aerial roots I admire.
Over there, the trees pulled my eyes skywards, while the broad path beneath gave me a sense of what it felt like to walk freely.
I strolled along vegetation, stopping now & then for birdsongs, squirrels, fallen fruits & breezes because I wanted to, not because I had to.
As I strolled, I felt as if I was growing a new neck & a new heart.
I’m beyond grateful that a solitary, seamless walk was the medicine I needed from constantly feeling on edge and locked down.
As the familiar forest chorus transported me to my primary school days, I laid the little girl who agonised over keeping up with her classmates on stairs to rest.
The familiar forest chorus at Botanical Gardens was the same music from the forest behind my primary school.♥️Standing next to my Primary One teacher under the Acacia Tree, my loyal protector & companion for 6 years. (Alexandra Est Primary School, 1971)
Depending on our dispositions, a durian evokes extreme reactions of dislike or delight.
Celebrating my brother’s birthday with one of our uncles over durians. (25/6/26)
My dad used to pick wild durians from the jungle to sell or bring home.
We kids would huddle around him on the kitchen floor as he admired the fruit of his labour before splitting it open for us.
A durian tastes best when shared.
And as far as I know, when in season, the durian is the only fruit that commands its own set of tables & chairs for its consumers.
Brother & Uncle.
Last night after nearly 20 years, I had my first alfresco durian in Singapore with two important men of my childhood, my brother & my uncle.
In our rental flat at Prince Charles’ Square in the 70s.
My brother was my first sibling and first childhood companion. He was my first chinese chess opponent and my first pupil when we played classroom.
My uncle was the first person who got me to copy out the full lyrics of “Massachusetts” by Bee Gees when I was in primary 3. That exposure to English words may have sparked my interest in writing & developed spelling accuracy almost unconsciously.
As uncle, nephew & niece chatted over the sweet delight under the moon, the trusted durian seller discreetly served another fruit to bring the celebratory evening to a sweet ending. 🙏
Today while cleaning the Lucky Bamboos, I had a feeling that it might be Guan Imm’s (Goddess of Compassion) birthday.
My Guan Imm figurine before I broke it.
A check with the lunar calendar shows that today is the 19th Day of the 2nd Lunar Month, a day set aside to observe the birth of Guan Imm.
Years ago, a branch from a potted orchid I was shifting toppled a much cherished glass figurine of Guan Imm. The figurine landed face down and its head came off.
After I broke it, I can never find the same figurine again.
Upset at my carelessness, I scoured frantically for a replacement. But that representation of Guan Imm never appeared in shops or online platforms I patronised again.
As time passes, I make peace with my loss, and the desire to repair or replace the figurine wanes.
Guan Imm is known by various names depending on culture & language – Kannon, Chenrezig, Avalokithesvara to list a few.
But all names point towards Compassion – the ability to feel the pain or suffering of others without becoming attached or overwhelmed, in order to be of service.
“Idols have clay feet,” we’re warned. Perhaps my Guan Imm had to lose her head in order to help me understand that compassion is not dependent on perfection, nor sight, sound or smell. 🙏🪷🪔
Today on Easter Sunday & Qing Ming morning, a single desert rose bloomed in my home.
Easter Sunday celebrates the resurrection of Christ. Qing Ming Day marks the period of ancestor veneration.
10 days ago, my first younger brother sent me pictures of the desert roses he’s been cultivating.
“This new flower I grafted on papa old tree.”
“This new flower I grafted on papa old tree,” he texted.
Like my dad, he’s also a man of few words. The joy of his flowers thriving on our late dad’s tree must have given him the impetus to say something.
Growing up we spoke little. We learnt that words can be repeated, misinterpreted & even weaponised. Better to speak less, and do more.
A rare childhood picture of my brother & me.
Over the years we’ve learnt that the windows to communication can come in the form of sharing food, looking at flowers & admiring religious artefacts.
My brother showing me one of his prized Desert Flowers while standing under the Chiku Tree our late dad had planted.
My brother brings me food now & then when he comes across tasty fares, gets me jasmine garlands for full/ new moon & shows me details in religious figurines.
And eventhough our dad is not with us now, and we have hardly any memory of conversations with him, we’ve come to associate the Desert Rose with him.
Posing with my brother’s Desert Rose collection during CNY of the Fire Horse 2026.
Perhaps for some of us, due to circumstances or our personality, words fail us. And in that void of silence, benevolent actions bloom. 🙏
Tariqna, the senior black cat with green eyes had to be given up. Her previous human needed nursing care.
Her name is a derivative of Arabic “Tariq,” referring to the star that rises in the dark to bring light & good news.
For a while, her destiny was uncertain.
Rehoming any animal is a challenge, not to mention age & colour were not in Tariqna’s favour.
Tariqna snoozes quietly as she awaits her new family.
Then someone showed up for Tariqna. For her safety, they had to make monetary & aesthetic sacrifices. They engaged a professional to install window meshes for every window in their flat.
This Good Friday weekend, Tariqna will be going home on a trial adoption with her new human. And her previous human will have peace of mind knowing that their beloved cat’s life continues with another family.
At times what we see as a loss is a sacrifice in disguise. And in allowing that sacrifice, we make room for gains not yet realised. 🙏🪔
May we like Tariqna rise like a star in times of darkness & uncertainties to bring comfort to all sentient beings.
Wishing Tariqna and new family many years of love, health & happiness.
Although I didn’t experience war, I grew up tense.
Medicine Buddha sitting steady on a drift wood.
Although there were no missiles to take cover from, verbal abuse hardened my heart.
Although there were no bullets to dodge, taunts bore holes in my head.
As a kid I learnt to read tones, facial expressions and listen for the unspoken to keep the peace among warring adults. I became too sharp for my age which took a psychological toll on me.
After I passed 40, I became more determined to not bleed my anxieties & frustrations onto others through harsh words.
Recently the driver who took my booking was at the wrong pick up point. It had arrived and I would be charged extra if I didn’t board on time. Losing $! Unfair! Panic!
When the driver picked up the call, I was tempted to unleash my 2 weeks’ worth of anxiety & worry over medical & domestic issues on him.
But I didn’t.
“This is the moment you’ve been practising for. Don’t crack now. Don’t vent your frustrations on others like how it happened when you were kid.”
So I looked at the tree opposite me and calmly redirected the driver to the correct pick up point.
After I got into his car, the driver complimented me on my voice & thanked me for not getting upset. He said speech carried energy & there was kindness in my voice.
When we arrived at my destination, he told me I was his first passenger for the day & that my voice gave him hope.
His feedback assured me I don’t need to let habitual tensions from childhood dictate my adult behaviour.
Although I can’t stop wars, practising non-violent speech may liberate me from inherited patterns of destructions & that could be a my small contribution to Peace. 🙏🪷
Meeting Ani Thubten Chodren of Thecken Choling Temple is always a delight.
Yesterday, despite a downcast sky & heavy rain later, I had the good fortune of being taken to the temple to light a butter lamp, to have a vegetarian meal at Fortune Centre & to a medical appointment.
At the temple I got to meet my first retired police dog. The sweet girl had served with her life – detecting explosives & ensuring all spaces are safe before any human stepped in. 🙏 Think about that. If there were any danger, she would be the first to get hurt.
Fly, the 4 legged girl played a guarded our country with her life. Now she’s retired & lives happily with her mom, Joy.
As we sat under the loving gaze of Buddha, my heart filled with gratitude to this little 4-legged girl’s role in our country’s peace & stability.
The encounter got me thinking of my favourite chinese aspiration: “风调雨顺 国泰民安”. (It roughly means may clement wind & rain bring stability to a country & peace to its people.)
It was raining when I got to the clinic. The jaunty young nurse attending to me was observing her first day of Ramadan.
Before I left, I thanked her & offered her a hong bao (red packet) to wish her a blessed Ramadan. Her face lit up still further at the unexpected acknowledgement of her dedication.
Essential & frontline staff and service animals keep our whole country running in rain or shine so that we can get on with our lives. ♥️🙏🪔
Wishing all sentient beings light, kindness & wisdom in the Year of the Horse.
I was in my 40s when I learnt the chinese new year cake which I’m so fond of eating is just made of glutinous rice flour & gula melaka or brown sugar.
“Cake” in my limited understanding then should be fancier and more glamorous, not just some brown gooey concoction wrapped in banana leaves.
Despite its non-descript appearance, the Nian Gao plays an important role in taoist chinese households. It is traditionally offered to the Kitchen God to sweeten his speech when he gives the Jade Emperor his appraisal of human affairs for the year.
The Kitchen God presiding over the stove & watching over the goings on in the household. (Image from Realasia.travel)
I’m not versed in traditional or religious practices, but I know when it comes to irresistible sweets, Nian Gao wins hands down.
Cut into thin slices, coated with flour & pan fried, this 2500 year old dessert is a prime example of self-sustaining sweetness.
The Dessert that orginated 2500 years ago.
As the Year of the Fire Horse approaches in 3 days’ time, may we aspire to be sincerely sweet in our speech and be a blessing to all that we meet.
And in the spirit of sweet speech, here’s wishing everyone abundance & progress in every step of the way (年年有余 步步高升 马年大吉) 🙏😊
Lisa Ong 