With moist and dismayed eyes a foreign worker in clothes mildly smeared with grease and paint stood first in the growing queue. Pusillanimously lost in thought he looked like a Bangladeshi, Anu guessed.
Just behind the Bangladeshi, a middle-aged rotund Chinese man was leaning on the side rails with two sizeable red plastic shopping bags placed near his feet. Oblivious to the surrounding, he was busy talking on his mobile, thanking and laughing with exaggerated courtesy, “Háiméiyǒu, xièxiè.”
The moment Anu saw her son’s eyes sparkling brighter, she knew the reason, and she’d guessed it right. Crawling on one of the large plastic bags carried by a Chinese man was a huge fly that caught the keen attention of ten-year-old Kani. He couldn’t take his eyes off.
As always she was fascinated by his interest displayed even before he had turned one. From as early as seven months he used to look for tiny ants and insects in the corners of the marble floor and follow them crawling on fours. Though rare, they would never fail to catch his attention. And flying insects thrilled him all the more. Long before he could say the word, “Amma,” to call her, he had learned to say ‘Poochchi[1]’, in Tamil, which made history becoming the first word he learned to speak.
Eager to continue where they had left their conversation just before leaving home, Anu asked her husband, “And what did that Pinoy colleague of yours exactly say to anger you that much? Somu, you didn’t tell me the details.”
Excited, wide-eyed Somu said, “He had the cheek to say right on my face that without them our country will cease to function. Can you believe that, Anu?”
Although the haze due to the conflagration in the Sumatran forests seemed to have reduced to healthy levels, about six or seven out of the ten migrant faces wore the N9 masks.
“He means, without the Filipinos?”
“I am sure he must have meant all foreign workers in general, I suppose. I couldn’t stand his temerity, you know. Seething through, I was intensely searing inside.” She just nodded looking at his face.
His cute chubby face was becoming more and more rounded with the receding hairline, she thought. The black curls highlighted his already fair complexion.
As if muttering to herself Anu said, “Humans seem to push the days of the week just for their weekend, when they live.” The queues were suddenly getting longer, Anu observed.
The bus interchange was filling with an erratic mixture of children shrieking, loud laughter of young people in groups, buses maneuvering and halting, bus doors opening and closing.
Mandarin, Tamil, Malay, Tagalog, Hokkien, and Bangla heard here and there were certainly not mellifluous, but an intriguing babel. The aroma of the satay from the nearby hawker wafted along with the breeze.
The breeze bore the message of the approaching showers. The slowly gathering dark clouds not just dimmed the sunlight but had suddenly increased the humidity.
Being the first few in the line waiting for route number 960 getting seats of their choice was not difficult.
The Bangladeshi worker walked straightto the back and took the left window seat of the long row of last seats.
Keeping his sight on the fly, Kani walked ahead but only very slowly.
“He went on saying things like they are a cheerful and contented bunch even with lower wages.”
“Lower?” Anu asked with an intrigued expression.
“Yalah. Their wages are somewhat lower than us locals.”
“True,” she agreed.
The stout Chinese man placed the bags purposely on the adjacent seat so that the foreign workers boarding behind wouldn’t be able to occupy the seat near him.
Watching the fly, Kani stood there blocking the way for the other passengers. Anu hurriedly pulled him along. “Isn’t it a common house fly, just a little larger?” Somuhushed. They moved to the rear. Kani’s focus remained on the fly as he reluctantly walked turning his head backward. “No.”
As the bus exited at the Woodlands interchange, Somu continued, “You know Anu, I couldn’t help telling him, why you don’t go back since you get paid low here. But he left the place abruptly without saying much although he did tell I must learn to be happy.”
“You?”
“He meant us, Singaporeans,” Somu said lowering his voice.
Near the exit, seated at the center of the bus the three domestic workers dressed in their weekend best, dolled up in all accessories, started watching videos happily, ready to enjoy their off day. One of them answered a call, “One angparaan, sanaymaging late,” assuring their punctuality to the friends on the other side.
Seated right behind his parents, next to the Bangladeshi worker, Kani kept getting up restlessly from his seat to look at the fly.
When a plump middle-aged Malay woman boarded at the Marsiling station, one of the foreign worker seated behind the driver spontaneously got up to give her the seat. The lady hesitated for a second and was about to lumber to the back when the other guy at the window seat followed suit. Happily, she sat on the aisle seat keeping all her bags and belonging on the window seat before she started looking out of the window.
Taking a look around within the bus, Anu said, “It’s fine Somu. Not like you had feared. I can even see a few empty seats.”
“You don’t know, darling. This bus really gets crowded on Sundays. We could have gone shopping next weekend after our car is back from servicing,” he sulked.
“Oh come on, Somu. Look at him! He seems to be enjoying the bus ride.”
“If not for the parking woes in Little India area, I wouldn’t choose to travel in this bus, especially during the weekend,” he sulked for the third time.
When the fly flew to the rear, it landed on the tab the domestic worker was holding. She jumped and shooed it off with a loud giggle. Her two friends joined in the amusement.
Kani got excited and shrieked, “Pa, look he is flying this way!” Suddenly feeling shy for having expressed loudly, he sat on his seat quietly observing.
The insect had comfortably settled on the glass window near the exit. Fixing his gaze on the fly, Kani sat calmly, glancing at other things once in a while. He shared his discovery, “Musca domestica,” tugging at his mother’s shoulder from the back of her seat. He pointed to the fly when Anu turned from the front seat to smile at him.
After the first few stops, at the Kranji station, foreign workers were boarding in groups.
Somu gave her a, “I told you!” kind of a look.
“Kani needs to see some real world at least once in a while,” Anu smiled gathering the locks of hair and tugging them behind her ears with her right hand.
There was an empty seat after the exit. A tall and slender looking Chinese woman who had boarded looked around, waved her hand with a pointed finger, “Go and sit there lah.” The construction worker appeared to be a Tamil guy got up like an obedient student and moved to the back. With a haughty expression, “Thank you,” she said curtly, almost half-heartedly.
“What do you mean Anu? Don’t tell me that only crowded bus rides are real life,” Somu chided with a laugh.
“Not exactly, but in a way yes,” Anu beamed.
Many were startled when the Malay woman, in her attempt to alight at the Bukit Panjang CC advanced to the back saying, “Cannot taahan this anymore. Why are these people so smelly?” Right after getting off the bus, she threw an angry expression at the bus from where she stood.
“Ma, why is that old aunty rankling for no apparent reason?”
“Hush, hush, no. Are you bored? Want my mobile?”
“No,” he said and went back to watch the big fly.
As the bus entered the BKE, most of them were getting busy texting. Most of them had dozed off in their seats. The bus suddenly quietened.
The two high housing board block of flats followed by a few private condominiums beyond the green wilds, on the right disappeared within minutes.
The long terrain ride with the lush natural habitat on either side of the expressway, as always brought a serene feeling within, Anu thought.
“Oh my God! I took the wrong set of shopping bags! I never bought these live crabs,” the Chinese man suddenly jolted. He held the tied bag with a large partially visible creepy crab within.
He stood up to go near the driver. “You have to get off at the Tanglin CC and cross the road via the overhead bridge and board a bus back to Bukit Panjang,” as he said calmly, the driver smartly kept his eyes on the road.
Kani was eager to have a look at the crab from near, but Somu said, “No need to go all the way there. We are speeding in the expressway Kani. It’s enough to look from here. I thought you were scared of crabs,” he chuckled.
“Of course, I wouldn’t dare touch it, pa. Thought of a closer look. The crab looks unique,” Kani said but sat back in his seat.
The Bangladeshi worker was sincerely trying hard to look away from the young Anglo Chinese couple in secret and mild canoodle at the right end of the long back seat. He had been talking seriously to someone for more than ten minutes. Sensing the network was bound to go erratic in the PIE, he winded up his conversation smartly, “Jaanish. Achchaa, thaarporkothabolbo, han?”
The road widening works near the exit to Eng Neo Avenue and Adams Road suddenly reminded of the city life.
“You look ravishing in this sari,” Somu whispered in Anu’s ear.
“And you have said that umpteen times, Somu. I still can’t forget the day you stood at the shop dead against me choosing this.” Reminiscing, they both laughed together and turned to look behind at Kani.
Very much familiar with the expressway, traffic, the downtown line works along the Bukit Timah road, Kani was observing all that he could, mostly within the bus as if he might never a get another chance to travel by bus.
Once at Whitley Road, the louring, urban face of the city showed. “This comes under the suborder Cyclorrhapha,” Kani bent down to whisper into Somu’s ears. The father forced a smile and looked at the fly.
Grumblingly, the Chinese man holding the large shopping bags alighted.
With not many passengers boarding or alighting, the bus streamlined through the Bukit Timah Road.
When the bus reached Little India, most of the commuters alighted. “Bus ride was damn interesting, Pa,” Kani mused as he got down. Though sunny, the roads glittered wetly. The rains had just stopped.
Not losing sight of the Bangladeshi worker who had also alighted, Kani told his parents to wait for a few minutes. When Anu pulled him, he said, “Ma, please wait just for a few minutes.”
“Can I have a few dollars, Pa?” he said hurriedly keeping an eye on the foreign worker.
Taking out his wallet from his pant pocket, Somu asked impatiently, “But what do you need money so urgently for?” Kani pulled out a ten dollar note.
He pointed to the Bangladeshi standing with a lost expression on his face. “He needs to top up his EZ link, Pa. I heard him cry over the phone. He is broke and in a dire state.”
“Don’t tell me you can understand their language.”
“Oh, I’d say I have been figuring out their language over the year,” he said. Always observing, he would smile and wave at the Bangladeshi workers who cleared the garbage chute and cleaned the common areas. But Anu never expected him to have picked up their language.
Kani swiftly went near the foreign worker and asked, “Where do you want to go?”
“PayaLebar,” said the foreign worker, looking at Kani a little hesitantly.
With all kindness, Kani said softly and slowly, “You take the train to Bugis from here. And from there you board the green line towards PasirRis, you understand?” The Bangladeshi just nodded shyly.
Gently, Kani thrust the ten dollar note into his hand and hopped back to join his parents. As if trying to prevent them from looking at the Bangladeshis, he pulled them both by his hands. Curiously, He turned to look and was titillated to see the housefly riding on the tattered backpack of the Bangladeshi.
“Eureka! Single pair of wings! Comes under the higher classification of Diptera,” he squealed.
[1]Poochchi – A generic term to refer to any kind of insect.
