3 Feb 2020 (Day 10 of Lunar New Year)

“此时此刻最美好” has been on my mind for some time. The phrase, made up of 7 Chinese characters literally means “now is the best time.” In translation it doesn’t seem much, especially when the context is unknown. But somehow, when the thought is conveyed in Chinese, it has an almost poetic feel to it even as it stands alone. At least for someone like me.

I cannot recall when & how these words came into my consciousness, except that I like the way the first 4 character look and how they sound when spoken. Plus I can pronounce them with some accuracy and enjoy doing so.

Thinking that I could have heard or seen the phrase as the title of a song or book, I did some online search but my effort yielded little.

But what I do know is that these 7 characters amply capture my state of mind whenever I have pictures taken.

For once a happy moment passes, there will never be another one identical to it, ever again.

So I try to project an energy of gratitude & connection with all beings each time a photo opportunity occurs.

And instead of worrying about my physical shortcomings, I try to be fully present with feelings of gratitude & acceptance.

Because in the days ahead and especially if they happen to be difficult ones, I hope to be able to look back at old pictures and say, “Yes, those were truly joyous times. And whatever happiness others have received, I’ve been given freely too. So there’s no room in my heart for jealousy or envy when others receive good things.”

And in the midst of mask buying and news of man-made disasters, I wish all my friends the equanimity to locate the various joys in their life and draw strength from them to sail through the winds of change.

26 Oct 2019 (Eve of Deepavali 2019)

When we relocated from a chinese village to a multi-racial housing board flat in the 70s, our immediate neighbour was an Indian family of four.

As the head of that household was 1 year older than my dad, my grandma told us to address him as Elder Uncle. Elder Uncle was Hindu and his wife Theresa was Catholic. Knowing that her name was too much of a challenge for our grandma’s untrained chinese tongue and for ease of communication, Theresa had kindly allowed her name to be modified into a rather inelegant sounding, “Ah Sa.”

“Ah Sa” had a key to our home and we had a key to hers.

In those days we had no telephone. If her relatives dropped by and there was no one home, we would unlock the door to “Ah Sa’s” flat on her behalf.

And if we misplaced our key to our home we need not panic because “Ah Sa” had a spare.

I loved lingering in her kitchen to watch her cook and be fed as well. I must have eaten hundreds of “Ah Sa’s” chapattis and dosas by the time I reached secondary school.

Her children, Manimaran & Selva were younger, and my mother was in love with their dark glossy hair and long eye lashes. My mother would touch Mani’s fringe affectionately and wondered aloud why her own kids had such flat hair.

Elder Uncle and “Ah Sa” were very strict parents but they had a soft spot for my youngest brother, Andrew, who was a toddler then. Elder Uncle would scoop him up and parade my baby brother around the neighbourhood like a prized pet.

Each Deepavali morning our Indian family would give us a tray of festive snacks in beautiful glass bowls covered with an embroidered organza tea cloth.

It was exquisite.

We would receive the tray with reverence and bring it into the kitchen to transfer its contents to airtight containers.

In return we filled “Ah Sa’s” glass bowls with sugar, candies and fruits to wish her a sweet and fruitful life ahead.

Years later, “Ah Sa” is the reason why I remember the names and aromas of Indian spices. She’s also the reason why I can stare at sarees and dupattas for hours and why I still tune into the Tamil radio station now & then.

I give thanks for the light of inclusivity that entered my world through this family, and hope to keep it shining in their honour.