Remember, people who gossip with you also will gossip about you in your absence.

Gossiping and lying are closely related.

A gossip listens in haste and repeats at leisure.

A gossip never minds his own business because he neither has a mind nor a business.

A gossip is more concerned about what he overhears than what he hears.

Gossip is the art of saying nothing in a way that leaves nothing unsaid.

Someone said it well: "Small people talk about other people, mediocre people talk about things, great people talk about ideas."

Gossip can lead to slander and defamation of character. People who listen to gossip are as guilty as those who do the gossiping.

A gossip usually gets caught in his own mouth trap.

Gossip has no respect for justice. It breaks hearts, it ruins lives, it is cunning and malicious. It victimizes the helpless.

Gossip is hard to track down because it has no face or name. It tarnishes reputations, topples governments, wrecks marriages, ruins careers, makes the innocent cry, causes heartaches and sleepless nights.

The next time you indulge in gossip, ask yourself.

• Is it the truth?

• Is it kind and gentle?

• Is it necessary?

• Am I spreading rumors?

• Do I say positive things about others?

• Do I enjoy and encourage others to spread rumors?

• Does my conversation begin with, "Don't tell anyone?"

• Can I maintain confidentiality?

The Winner is always part of the answer;

The Loser is always part of the problem.

The Winner always has a program;

The Loser always has an excuse.

The Winner says, "Let me do it for you";

The Loser says, "That is not my job."

The Winner sees an answer for every problem;

The Loser sees a problem for every answer.

The Winner says, "It may be difficult but it is possible";

The Loser says, "It may be possible but it is too difficult."

When a Winner makes a mistake, he says, "I was wrong";

When a Loser makes a mistake, he says, "It wasn't my fault."

A Winner makes commitments;

A Loser makes promises.

Winners have dreams;

Losers have schemes.

Winners say, "I must do something";

Losers say, "Something must be done."

Winners are a part of the team;

Losers are apart from the team.

Winners see the gain;

Losers see the pain.

Winners see possibilities;

Losers see problems.

Winners believe in win-win;

Losers believe for them to win someone has to lose.

Winners see the potential;

Losers see the past.

Winners are like a thermostat;

Losers are like thermometers.

Winners choose what they say;

Losers say what they choose.

Winners use hard arguments but soft words;

Losers use soft arguments but hard words.

Winners stand firm on values but compromise on petty things;

Losers stand firm on petty things but compromise on values.

Winners follow the philosophy of empathy: "Don't do to others what you would not want them to do to you";

Losers follow the philosophy, "Do it to others before they do it to you."

Winners make it happen;

Losers let it happen.

Winners plan and prepare to win.

The key word is preparation.

Be a winner ,-)

When you came into the world, she held you in her arms. You thanked her by wailing like a banshee.

When you were 1 year old, she fed you and bathed you. You thanked her by crying all night long.

When you were 2 years old, she taught you to walk. You thanked her by running away when she called.

When you were 3 years old, she made all your meals with love. You thanked her by tossing your plate on the floor.

When you were 4 years old, she gave you some crayons. You thanked her by coloring the dining room table.

When you were 5 years old, she dressed you for the holidays. You thanked her by plopping into the nearest pile of mud.

When you were 6 years old, she walked you to school. You thanked her by screaming, "I'M NOT GOING!"

When you were 7 years old, she bought you a baseball. You thanked her by throwing it through the next-door-neighbor's window.

When you were 8 years old, she handed you an ice cream. You thanked her by dripping it all over your lap.

When you were 9 years old, she paid for piano lessons. You thanked her by never even bothering to practice.

When you were 10 years old, she drove you all day, from soccer to gymnastics to one birthday party after another. You thanked her by jumping out of the car and never looking back.

When you were 11 years old, she took you and your friends to the movies. You thanked her by asking to sit in a different row.

When you were 12 years old, she warned you not to watch certain TV shows. You thanked her by waiting until she left the house.

Those teenage years

When you were 13, she suggested a haircut that was becoming. You thanked her by telling her she had no taste

When you were 14, she paid for a month away at summer camp. You thanked her by forgetting to write a single letter.

When you were 15, she came home from work, looking for a hug. You thanked her by having your bedroom door locked.

When you were 16, she taught you how to driver her car. You thanked her by taking it every chance you could.

When you were 17, she was expecting an important call. You thanked her by being on the phone all night.

When you were 18, she cried at your high school graduation. You thanked her by staying out partying until dawn.

Growing old and gray

When you were 19, she paid for your college tuition, drove you to campus, carried your bags. You thanked her by saying good-bye outside the dorm so you wouldn't be embarrassed in front of your friends.

When you were 20, she asked whether you were seeing anyone. You thanked her by saying, "It's none of your business."

When you were 21, she suggested certain careers for your future. You thanked her by saying, "I don't want to be like you."

When you were 22, she hugged you at your college graduation. You thanked her by asking whether she could pay for a trip to Europe.

When you were 23, she gave you furniture for your first apartment. You thanked her by telling your friends it was ugly.

When you were 24, she met your fiance and asked about your plans for the future. You thanked her by glaring and growling, "Muuhh-ther, please!"

When you were 25, she helped to pay for your wedding, and she cried and told you how deeply she loved you. You thanked her by moving halfway across the country.

When you were 30, she called with some advice on the baby. You thanked her by telling her, "Things are different now."

When you were 40, she called to remind you of an relative's birthday. You thanked her by saying you were "really busy right now."

When you were 50, she fell ill and needed you to take care of her. You thanked her by reading about the burden parents become to their children.

And then, one day, she quietly died. And everything you never did came crashing down like thunder. "Rock me baby, rock me all night long."

The hand who rocks the cradle...may rock the world".

Let us take a moment of the time just to pay tribute/show appreciation to the person called MOM though some may not say it openly to their mother. There's no substitute for her. Cherished every single moment. Though at times she may not be the best of friends, may not agree to our thoughts, she is still your mother!!! She will be there for you... to listen to your woes, your braggings, your frustations, etc. Ask yourself.....have you put aside enough time for her, to listen to her "blues" of working in the kitchen, her tiredness??? Be tactful, loving and still show her due respect though you may have a different view from hers. Once gone, only fond memories of the past and regrets will be left.

** DON'T TAKE FOR GRANTED THE THINGS CLOSEST TO YOUR HEART. CLING TO THEM AS U WOULD YOUR LIFE, FOR WITHOUT THEM, LIFE IS MEANINGLESS **

Feel so sad for all the passengers including the extraordinary photographer, who kept his cool even in his last moments of life and took this photo. Hats off to him!!!

Yesterday the world saw the disappearance of an A330 Air Frane during a trans Atlantic flight between Rio to Paris. Very ironic that a day before I got a mail of the photos taken a a passenger on a flight mins after a mid air collision, and mins before the crash of the said aircraft

Two shots taken inside the plane before it crashed. Unbelievable! Photos taken inside the GOLB 737 aircraft that was involved in a mid air collision and crashed..

A B737 had a mid air collision with the Embraer Legacy while cruising at 35,000 feet over South America. The Embraer Legacy, though seriously damaged with the winglet ripped off, managed to make a landing at a nearby airstrip in the midst of the Amazon jungle. The crew and passengers of the Embraer Legacy had no idea what they had hit. The B737 however crashed, killing all crew and passengers on board.

The two photos attached were apparently taken by one of the passengers in the B737, just after the collision and before the aircraft crashed. The photos were retrieved from the camera's memory stick. You will never get to see photos like this. In the first photo, there is a gaping hole in the fuselage through which you can see the tailplane and vertical fin of the aircraft. In the second photo, one of the passengers is being sucked out of the gaping hole.

These photos were found in a digital Casio Z750, amidst the remains in Serra do Cachimbo. Although the camera was destroyed, the Memory Stick was recovered. Investigating the serial number of the camera, the owner was identified as Paulo G. Muller, an actor of a theatre for children known in the outskirts of Porto Alegre. It can be imagined that he was standing during the impact with the Embraer Legacy and during the turbulence, he managed to take these photos, just seconds after the tail loss the aircraft plunged. So the camera was found near the cockpit. The structural stress probably ripped the engines away, diminishing the falling speed, protecting the electronic equipment but not unfortunately the victims. Paulo Muller leaves behind two daughters, Bruna and Beatriz.

POWERING THE IMAGINATION

We must understand what imagination is and its strength before powering it up to do great things for us. Therefore, the power that is imagination must not be underestimated or dismissed it as being of little practical value.

An Important Resource

Let us imagine that imagination is a soup which is being cooked in a large pot. All sort of items purchased from far and near have been added to create a new concoction. The soup is ready to be eaten but instead the people are not around. The fire is still on and as a result the soup begins to overflow.

As no one is around the soup continues to overflow and the fire continues to burn. By the time the people come to the kitchen, half of the soup has overflow to the ground and is wasted. The fire is quickly switched off and the balance soup is shared by four people. They love the special soup but regret having neglected the kitchen for a while.

Thus imagination is a resource although difficult to classify it as one because of the fact that it cannot be touch or felt. As the imagination matures to the state of innovation or invention, it passes from the state of being intangible to that of being tangible. When this happens, this transformation touches the lives of many or even the whole of humanity.  As such the imagination has succeeded in changing the destiny of mankind or even improves their lives say giving more comfort or new facilities. I hope that may we utilise the free-flowing imagination rather than allow it to be gone or wasted altogether.  May God give us strength to utilise this powerful resource: a resource that is ever-bubbling with energy, ever-ready to be put to good use for the common benefit of all mankind.

An artist at work: imagination put to the highest pedestal 

I do remember in my childhood, there was an artist in Chinatown who meticulously worked at night to paint wonderful floral, still life or picture of people and places in ancient China. I looked at his left hand seeing how he held the brush and slowly twisted it to give effect of curls, movement and reality or realism to the whole work he was engaged in.  From time to time, he would dip his brush either to the colour to give the desired effect or dip into the water to wash it off before switching to another colour. The actions of the artist: dip brush, paint, dip bush again and continue painting and my eyes movements following his hand movements and the gradual shaping of his work on the art paper.

In the beginning of any work, the art paper is just plain white. On some occasions the artist would resume painting straightaway but at other times, he would give a quick sponge of light colour say pale pink, light blue or light yellow to give a good background for what he intended to draw. A good environment is important for an artist and as such my father would scold me if I move about. He said that my movements or talking would disturb his work. The significance of this was shown to me one day when the artist who has kept a bowl of steaming soup near his artwork went to the loo for a while. In his absence, a stray cat rushed to the soup but accidently hit it and the bowl fell pouring the whole soup on to his near completed art work. The colourfully set scene of the two heavenly maids with their long flowing hair, colourful clothes and waving fans were destroyed. These rare celestial creatures paid a visit to the ancient temple as depicted by the artist.

The artist on his return was shocked to see his work spoilt. Part of his bubbling imagination has been vividly captured on to the artwork but then his balance imagination was lost. The black cat has by now gone far away, afraid to be beaten. Having no choice but to destroy his work, the artist threw it away. Feeling sad at his work not only being disrupted but spoilt, I saw tears flowing from his eyes. As a child, I could not fully comprehend his deep feelings. Normally artists are emotional people and part of their work is propelled by the magic of positive emotion of good feelings. As I grew up, I too experienced the frustration of failures.

My early acquaintance with this artist came to an end one day. My father told me that he heard that the artist was killed by his fellow workman. The artist was working at night as an artist but in the day time he was a manual worker multi-tasking by delivering goods or doing some carpentry work. His fellow men were jealous of him because of his added skill whereby he was able to command a higher salary. They were inwardly unhappy that he was an artist too. One of the workers attacked him from behind while he was at his carpentry work. As no one saw the incident, the culprit was never found out.

A few days later, when I went to the place where the artist used to work, it was totally transformed. There was no artist, no artwork but an occasional mouse scuttling here and there in the dim light. The bright light, the magic of the painting and most important of all, the artist were all gone. I felt sad and left the place altogether.

My yesteryears: encounter with many imaginations

In the primary school where I used to study, the early years were good one for the purpose of imagination. We befriended some monkeys who would come and gently pick us up for a trip to the tall trees. In return, we gave the smiling chattering creatures some food and they were very happy. Up on the tall trees, I looked down and could see the world below. As the arm of modernity began to catch up the surrounding of the school, the jungle beside the school was cleared off and the monkeys were taken away by the authority. Years later, when I narrated about the friendly monkeys to my parents, they were surprised and asked why I did not told them earlier. However, I know in my heart that pursuit of imagination and adventure also carries its own risks.

Urbanisation also improved the Kim Seng River as it was being dredged to remove the dirt and the banks were widened so that the boats could move freely. Today this area is an entertainment district and the landscape has changed beyond recognition. My secondary school was much far away, not like the primary school within walking distance of 25 minutes. However, I enjoyed the secondary school years. All my teachers were dedicated lot and the English teacher Mr. Dawson was a jovial man. He encouraged us to read widely so as to build the base of good writing. We used to relish the class competition of essay writing and the good ones were accorded stars. On one occasion, I too felt proud of being given a gold star which was pasted on to the top page of the essay.

The enthusiasm generated by the teachers was important in making us to work conscientiously and towards our goal of achieving excellent results. My literature teacher was vocal lady and she used to read in class articulately drawing to us the spirit of English literature by William Shakespeare. Literature does not goes down well with many pupils because of the many paraphrasing to be referred to but also the language of understanding human behaviour (the characters in the play) and command of good English. My Art teacher was a man who loved to teach us the importance of shading, depth and choice of colours. Art is not something that one can see or read and do it with ease. It involves a lot of imagination and putting them on to paper through the use of good brushwork and pencil work.

May imagination change our destinies to become great!

Unlike the rushed curriculum of trying to squeeze into one everything and the poor creature is breathless or choking, the balanced pace of our learning journey was different. We realised that we had many options. There is always in us the artist, the mathematician, the scientist, the historian, the geographer, the literature nature and so forth. In the stress, push or pull of examinations, all these sparks of various disciplines within us tend to disappear and we begin to shape up with the living environment, the rules and regulations of the curriculum.

We tend to mix up all these sparks and kill them unintentionally; we then become a rojak person. Sad to say, the thread of imagination is broken, the focus is lost and the end result is the danger of becoming jack of all trades, but master of none. Is this what I want? A soul-searching of some sort would obviously be good because it create in us the awareness of our drifting instead of mastering something.

Remember that if I am unable to fully understand myself or even the fact that I am  drifting like a drift wood in the open sea, then I am living in a world of my own. Therefore it is important to  learn the tricks of the trade, so that I am able to compete with myself in order to improve further and go on to help the society, the people and my nation.    

By Om Nath Panday

22 June 2009

BATTLING AGAINST

THE NORMS

What happens when one’s belief system swings to the opposite of the mainstream of human society? The individual harbouring such belief system begins to face self-conflicts, challenges, lack of confidence and many failures at every step. Is it wise to move against the norms of a community? Read on to find more...

When you navigate against the river current, you find that you cannot steer on a straight path to land across the opposite bank. Your actual speed is being hampered by the current and hence there is the operation of relative velocity. This is a basic topic in applied maths and also in physics whereby students have to do a variety range of problems to calculate the relative velocity, the angle, the current velocity or wind speed in order to become more aware and proficient.

There is a thriving day market across the river and because of the strong river current, your slow boat arrives some 150 metres away from the desired spot where you wished to stop. Now you know what the river current can do to you. In fact it can do more than that. What if your craft is leaking and it capsize in midstream, the craft and yourself can be in deep trouble – the craft sinks while you yourself find being driven by the strong current towards the sea. Help is most important now.

In life there are some situations when we find ourselves being in opposition. We find things just don’t work out well. Is it one of those bad days? It is due to lack of foresight? Was the goal being defined clearly? Is there lack of system or no planning at all? Is there any sense of direction?  It could be one or more of these or even factors that we may not know until much later in the future.

When things don’t work well, we feel worried and insecure. However, a cool, calm and collected mind is required. For a family or a corporation, the collective mind is essential. It is apt to say that many heads think better than one. Hence an entrepreneur who is keen to progress in the face of many difficulties like poor sales begins to rope in the ideas of his workers. The boss who also listens to the ground is in a better position than one who is so absorbed with the board room. Do not simply oppose the ideas of your subordinates by dismissing them totally. Take note; keep them aside if it does not appear useful in the current situation. Perhaps, who knows that with changing circumstances these little rubbish could become sparks of something very useful and maybe progress on to give good money for investing into them.

Some firms don’t like the idea of workers’ unionism but feel compelled by industrial climate to allow them to exist because of the complicated issues of compensation, fair practices or good company relationship. Sometimes you may have a union leader who is more of a gem than just a headache or one who mostly opposes the management. The workers’ leader may be a man of foresight because he also understands the policies of the company and why it is in place. It is the misinterpretation and misunderstanding of certain things and sometimes dissemination of wrong ideas that brings in the sparks of conflict and fire of opposition in the hearts and minds of the workers against the management.

A union leader who bears in mind also about the continuing stability of the firm and its progress into the future is a better person. Beside the workers’ welfare and rights, the health of the firm is equally important. If the firm is not doing well, then the workers would suffer in the long run in terms of lower bonus and other fringe benefits.

The manager knows the negotiation power of the union leader. He also knows the persuasive power that the leader has over his men. A wise manager is one who is able to tap the strength of the union leader by getting him engaged beyond his unionism work like making him the head of work improvement team or giving him recognition for his contribution to the company’s productivity drive or sales promotion. By following such rationale and taking care of the motivation of his men, the future of the company is bright and in safe hands.

By enhancing the men through training and skill improvement, purchase of better machines with regular maintenance and repairs and management of other resources the ground of the firm is firmly established. In organisation involved in mega projects, the work of research & development is important. As an example in the case of chemical industries, a firm set out to do scenario planning in terms of chemical or gas accident. Records from the firm’s archives is retrieved and the engineers or scientists draw up a few scenarios to study the impact of such possible accidents, the damage to surrounding environment and the effect of the nearby populace or buildings.

Scenario planning is part of the total planning process. Through a vast collection of data or statistics, planners study the trend and history of accidents. All possible causes are taken into consideration and new guidelines are then developed. Hence the firm has taken the painful task to unearth its weakness and with mind mapping work out new security features that has to be incorporated within the plant operation and practices.           

Be it a personal problem, a corporation one or one that in involved with work, avoiding the problem solving process is a fatal mistake. As such we begin to ponder and try to understand things better. However, if we take too long a time pondering, then there lies the danger of not being able to get started. A wise farmer once said to his two sons: “Do not worry about the harvest time and about what if there is heavy rain to destroy the crop. Just start sowing the seeds while the time is still right”. The farmer was right because he realised that the sons were giving excuses and were not interested in farming. The poor peasant continued his life as usual and giving words of wisdom from time to time hoping that the sons would pick up some of these gems and change.

However, change can be cruel at time. One day the lazy sons were shocked to learn that their dad has died while working in the field. They rushed and brought his body. After the bereavement period, things begin to change. The eyeing powerful relations got the opportunity and one day they seize the whole land. For the sons, it was an uphill task to do court battles and make numerous visits to the land office. Soon things fell apart for the sons. Having little choice, they gave up and bade good bye to each other. Hoping to find better fortune, they left for two different cities and were then never to meet each other again. They struggled in their lives at the new places but then the fortune was not there as they dreamt. Their dad’s word used to echo from time to time: “The pasture is not green, over there. (pointing his hand to the distant city lights, many kilometres away). Look at this good earth. If you cherish it, if you work hard with passion and good heart, then this becomes your treasure”.  

In the educational world, there is ample stress and if we are not careful, things can easily go wrong. Take the case of an undergrad who is working hard to achieve a degree that can be a passport to a good life. He comes from a good family. However, somehow things are not working in favour for him. He finds the varsity life too difficult and he finds that he can’t mix well with the other fellow undergrads. He thinks that they are crazy only involved in mugging day and night. He casually steps out of his lecture theatre and move on to the open space on the ground. The fresh air and sunshine greets him instead of the stale air-conditioned air circulating within the university premises.    

There is no one around, there is no restraining factor – his mind and body want just freedom. To hell with all these studies! His devilish mind says. Explore the outside world. It’s all yours if you have the guts. Come on! Be a man now! 

Slowly but boldly, the undergrad steps out of the university campus. From afar, the towering blocks now do not impress him; once when he was in the A-level, he would feel fascinated and hoped to gain entry into one of the tall towers: either engineering or medical. Today these towers do not represent the pillars of high education. To him, the university life is that of imprisonment, of being slave to the thick books and to the ‘stupid’ lecturers. He smiles to himself as he considers his maths lecturer a big joker. He was always puzzled from day one about his absurdities on mathematics. The lecturers spoke too fast and would then go around helping if anyone has any problems. When he approached him, the undergrad would decline politely saying that he would help himself and did not need any coaching. There was anger in his heart that the lecturer was destroying his future in the study of maths.

After some time, he decides to move. He then checks his wallet and it was zero.  His heart sinks and he feels worried. Should he go back to the lecture? His mind was firm and it advised him not to return back to the campus. Have you chicken out? So fast! Don’t be a fool. My friend, you are suited not to this university but to the UNIVERSITY OF LIFE. I Hope that you understand well.

The undergrad was happy. He then checks his wallet further and went to the inner special compartment. In it, he found two fifty dollars notes. This was the emergency money which his beloved mum has given to him. At first, he hesitated to use it because his mum’s face appeared in his mind. If you love your mum dearly, don’t give up your university education. Go back and things will turn out well for you. In the next moment, the devilish mind took over the good heart. Hey! Be a man and make merry. You think that the university is everything. There is more to life than tertiary education.      

The undergrad moved on to enjoy his life; he went to the movies and also bowling. In the end, he failed his exams and was thrown out of the varsity. He moved on from one job to another and did not found success or happiness in any one area. The years moved on and on and one day in his forties, he was so overwhelmed by his sense of deep insecurity and total failure, he thought of leaving for a faraway place to set up an ashram and professed himself as a guru of great spiritual knowledge.

He thought hard for some time about what would be his first lesson. He imagined that his disciples sitting around him waiting for his lecture on greatness in life. He finds himself to be drained off of all knowledge. The words can’t come out of his mouth. At last, with difficulty he says the following the words: “My dear disciples, the first and most important thing to do in life is to get up early in the morning, I mean before sunrise. This is the first supreme formula of living”.

He was surprised beyond expectation. The image of himself as a spiritual guru in an ashram and all the surrounding disciples disappeared. It was just a mirage which he was waiting to happen. In reality, he was surprised to have revealed a formula of which he has long forgotten and not practising it, due to the many bad habits he has picked up.

He has to take note and did a hard self-reflecting on his self. Gradually he began to improve as he strengthens his good points and removed or reduced his weaknesses. Over the years, he learned to be humble and listen to the people around him. He again embarked on a serious study – this time through the part-time University program.

Today, the undergrad is a successful lecturer himself. He realised that how he once opposed the world around him and was not connected with his inner feelings. “Viewing the world with suspicions means wearing the wrong sunglass and this is the easiest way to one’s downfall”. He smiles as he passes down this word of wisdom to me.

I listened with attention and realised what a difficult learning journey it was for him.

Never mind. Success always comes with a price but in my case, I paid a very heavy one. The words of this man still echoed me as I walked slowly out of his posh academic office. Below the office is a garden of many flowers and a small waterfall.

I paused to look at the streaming water as it makes music with the success of a man to be recognised with.      

Om Nath Panday

17 June 2009

Found this article in Today paper about "Balance between work and family" which is needed in Singapore :

Part 1...

A fatal misunderstanding and the person who love me the most in this world is gone forever.

This is a true story, taken from "Family" (dictated by LD, edited by LSX, translated by Sa Fe ).

Cruel misunderstandings one after another disrupted the blissful footsteps to our family. Our original intend of having Mother enjoy some quiet and peaceful moments in her remaining years with us went terribly wrong as destiny's secret is finally revealed at a price, every thing became too late. Just two years after our marriage, hubby brought up the idea of asking Mother to move from the rural hometown and spend her remaining years with us. Hubby's father passed away while he was still very young. Mother endured much hardship and struggled all on her own to provide for him, see him through to a university degree. You could say that she suffered a great deal and did everything you could expect of a woman to bring hubby to where he is today. I immediately agreed and started packing the spare room, which has a balcony facing the South to let her enjoy the sunshine and plant some greenery. Hubby stood in the bright room, and suddenly just picked me up and started spinning round and round. As I begged him to put me down, he said: "Lets go fetch mother." Hubby is tall and big sized and I love to rest on his chest and enjoy the feeling that he could pick me up at any moment put the tiny me into his pockets. Whenever we have an argument and both of us refuse to back down, he would pick me up and spin me over his head continuously until I surrender and beg for mercy. I became addicted to this kind of panic-joy feeling.

Mother brought along her countryside habits and lifestyle with her. For example; I am so used to buying flowers to decorate the living room, she could not stand it and would comment: "I do not know how you young people spend your money, why do you buy flowers for? You also can't eat the flowers!" I smiled and said: "Mum, with flowers in the house, our mood will also become better." Mother continues to grumble away, and hubby smiled: "Mum, this is a city-people's habit; slowly you will get use to it." Mother stopped saying anything. But every time thereafter, whenever I came home with flowers, she would ask me how much it costs. I told her and she would shake her head and express displeasure. Sometimes, when I come home with lots of shopping bags, she would ask each and every item how much they cost, I would tell her honestly and she would get even more upset about it. Hubby playfully pinched my nose and said: "You little fool, just don't tell her the full price of everything would solve it." There begins the friction to our otherwise happy lifestyle.

Mother hates it most when hubby wakes up early to prepare the breakfast. In your view, how could the man of the house cook for the wife? At the breakfast table, mother facial expression is always like the dark clouds before a thunderstorm and I would pretend not to notice. She would use her chopsticks and make a lot of noise with it as her silent protest. As I am a dance teacher in the Children's Palace and is exhausted from a long day of dancing around, I do not wish to give up the luxury of that additional few minutes in the comfort of my bed and hence I turned a deaf ear to all the protest mother makes.

From time to time, mother would help out with some housework, but soon her help created additional work for me. For example: she would keep all kinds of plastic bags accumulating them so that she sell them later on, and that resulted in our house being filled with all the trash bags; she would scrimp on dish washing detergent when helping to wash the dishes and so as not to hurt her feelings, I would quietly wash they again. One day, late at night, mother saw me quietly washing the dishes, and "Bam" she slams her bedroom door and cried very loudly in her room. Hubby was placed in a difficult position, and after that, he did not speak to me for that entire night. I pretended to be a spoilt child, tried acting cute, but he totally ignored me. I got mad and asked him: "What did I do wrong?" Hubby stared at me and said: "Can't you just give in to her once? We couldn't possibly die eating from a bowl however unclean it is, right?"

After that incident, for a long period of time, mother did not speak to me and you can feel that there is a very awkward feeling hanging in the house. During that period of cold war, hubby was caught in dilemma as to who to please. In order to stop her son from having to prepare breakfast, mother took on the "all important" task of preparing breakfast without any prompting. At the breakfast table, mother would look at hubby happily eating his breakfast and cast that reprimanding stare at me for having failed to perform my duty as a wife. To avoid the embarrassing breakfast situation, I resorted to buying my own breakfast on my way to work.

That night, while in bed, hubby was a little upset and asked me: "LD, is it because you think that mum's cooking is not clean that's why you chose not to eat at home?" He then turned his back on me and left me alone in tears as feeling of unfairness overwhelmed me. After some time, hubby sighed: "LD, just for me, can you have breakfast at home?" I am left with no choice but to return to the breakfast table.

The next morning, I was having porridge prepared by mother and I felt a sudden churn in my stomach and everything inside seem to be rushing up my throat. I tried to suppress the urge to throw up but I couldn't. I threw down the bowl and rushed into the washroom and vomited everything out. Just as I was catching my breath, I saw mother crying and grumbling very loudly in her dialect, hubby was standing at the washroom doorway staring at me with fire burning in his eyes. I opened my mouth but no words came out of it, I really didn't mean it. We had our very first big fight that day; mother took a look at us, then stood up and slowly made her way out of the house. Hubby gave me a final stare in the eye and followed mother down the stairs.

For three days, hubby did not return home, not even a phone call. I was so furious, since mother arrived; I had been trying my best and putting up with her, what else do you want me to do? For no reason, I keep having the feeling to throw up and I simply have not appetite for food, coupled with all the events happening at home, I was at the low point in my life. Finally, a colleague said: "LD, you look terrible .you should go and see a doctor." The doctor confirmed that I am pregnant. Now it became clear to me why I threw up that fateful morning, a sense of sadness floated through that otherwise happy news. Why didn't hubby, and mother who had been through this before, thought of the possibility of this being the reason that day? At the hospital entrance, I saw my hubby standing there. It had only been three days, but he looked haggard. I had wanted to turn and leave, but one look at him and my heart soften, I couldn't resist and called out to him. He followed my voice and finally found me but he pretended that he doesn't know me; he has that disgusted look in his eyes that cut right through my heart. I told myself not to look at him anymore, and hail a cab. At that moment, I have such a strong urge inside me to shout to my hubby: "Darling, I am having your baby!" and have him lift me up and spin me round in circles of joy. What I wanted didn't happen and as I sat in the cab, my tears started rolling down.

Why? Why our love couldn't even withstand the test of one fight? Back home, I lay on the bed thinking about my hubby, and the disgusted look in his eyes. I cried and wet the corner of the blanket.

That night, sound of the drawers opening woke me up. I switched on the lights and I saw hubby with tears rolling down his face. He was removing the money. I stared at him in silence; he ignored me, took the bank deposit book and some money and left the house. Maybe he really intends to leave me for good. What a rational man, so clear-cut in love and money matters. I gave a few dried laugh and tears starting streaming down again.

The next day, I did not go to work. I wanted to clear this out and have a good talk with hubby. I reached his office and his secretary gave me a weird look and said: "Mr Tan's mother had a traffic accident and is now in the hospital." I stood there in shock. I rushed to the hospital and by the time I found hubby, mother had already passed away. Hubby did not look at me, his face was expressionless.

I looked at mother's pale white and thin face and I couldn't control the tears in my eyes. My god, how could this happen? Throughout the funeral, hubby did not say a single word to me, with only the occasional disgusted stare at me. I only managed to find out brief facts about the accident from other people. That day, after mother left the house, she walked in dazed toward the bus stop, apparently intending to go back to her old house back in the countryside. As hubby ran after her, she tried to walk faster and as she tried to cross the street, a public bus came and hit her...

I finally understood how much hubby must hate me, if I had not thrown up that morning, if we had not quarrelled , if...

In his heart, I am indirectly the killer of his mother.

Part 2 and end...

Hubby moved into mother's room and came home every night with a strong liquor smell on him. And me, I am buried under the guilt and self pity and could hardly breathe. I wanted to explain to him, tell him that we are going to have our baby soon, but each time, I saw the dead look in his eyes, all the words I have at the brink of my mouth just fell back in. I had rather he hit me real hard or give me a big and thorough scolding though none of these events happening had been my fault at all.

Many days of suffocating silence went by and as the days went by, hubby came home later and later. The deadlock between us continues, we were living together like strangers who don't know each other. I am like the dead knot in his heart.

One day, I passed by a western restaurant, looking into the glass window, I saw hubby and a girl sitting facing each other and he very lightly brushed her hair for her, I understood what it meant. After recovering from that moment of shock, I entered the restaurant, stood in front of my hubby and stared hard at him, not a tear in my eyes. I have nothing to say to him, and there is no need to say anything. The girl looked at me, looks at hubby, stands up and wanted to go, hubby stretched out his hand and stopped her. He stared back at me, challenging me. I can only hear my slow heartbeat, beating, one by one as if at the brink of death. I eventually backed down, if I had stood that any longer, I will collapse together with the baby inside me.

That night, he did not come home, he had chosen to use that as a way to indicate to me: Following mother's death, so did our love for each other. He did not come home anymore after that. Sometimes, when I returned home from work, I can tell that the cupboard had been touched - he had returned to take some of his stuff.

I no longer wish to call him; the initial desire to explain everything to him vanished. I lived alone; I went to my medical checkups alone, my heart breaks again and again every time I see a guy carefully helping his wife through the physical examination.

My office colleagues hinted to me to consider aborting the baby, I told them No, I will not. I insisted on having to this baby, perhaps it is my way of repaying mother for causing her death.

One day, I came home and I saw hubby sitting in the living room. The whole house was filled with cigarette smoke. On the coffee table, there was this piece of paper. I know what it is all about without even looking at it.

In the two months plus of living alone, I have gradually learned to find peace within myself. I looked at him, removed my hat and said: "You wait a while, I will sign." He looked at me, mixed feelings in his eyes, just like mine. As I hang up my coat, I keep repeating to myself "You cannot cry, you cannot cry..." my eyes hurt terribly, but I refused to let tears come out from there. After I hung up my coat, hubby's eyes stared fixed at my bulging tummy. I smiled, walked over to the coffee table and pull the paper towards me. Without even looking at what it says, I signed my name on it and pushed the paper to him.

"LD, you are pregnant?" Since mother's accident, this is the first time he spoke to me. I could not control my tears any further and they fell like raindrops. I said: "Yes, but its ok, you can leave now." He did not go, in the dark, we sat, facing each other. Hubby slowly moved over me, his tears wet the blanket. In my heart, everything seems so far away, so far that even if I should sprint, I could never reach them.

I cannot remember how many times he repeated "sorry" to me, I had originally thought that I would forgive him, but now I can't. In the western restaurant, in front of that girl, that cold look in his eyes, I will never forget, ever. We have drawn such deep scar in each other's heart. For me, its unintentional; for him, totally intentional.

I had been waiting for this moment of reconciliation, but I realized now, what had gone past is gone forever and could not repeated! Other than the thought of the baby inside me that would bring some warmth to my heart, I am totally cold towards him, I no longer eat anything he buys for me, I don't take any presents from him and I stopped talking to him. From the moment I signed on that piece of paper, marriage and love had vanished from my heart.

Sometimes, hubby will try to come into the bedroom, but when he walks in, I will walk out to the living room. He had no choice but to sleep in mother's room. At night, from his room, I can hear light sounds of groaning, I kept quiet. This used to be his trick; last time, whenever I ignore him, he would fake illness and I will surrender and find out what is wrong with him, he would then grab me and laugh. He has forgotten that last time, I cared for him and am concerned because there is love, but now, what is there between us?

Hubby's groaning came on and off continuing all the way till baby was born. Almost everyday, he would buy something for the baby, infant products, children products and books that kids like to read. Bags and bags of it stacked inside his room till it is full. I know he is trying to use this to reach out to me, but I am no longer moved by his actions. He has no choice but to lock himself in his room and I can hear his typing away on his computer keyboard, maybe he is now addicted to web surfing, but none of that matters to me anymore.

It was sometime towards the end of spring in the following year, one late night, I screamed because of a sudden stomach pain, hubby came rushing into the room, its like he did not change and sleep, and had been waiting for this moment. He carried me and ran down the stairs, stopped a car, holding my hand very tightly and kept wiping the sweat off my brown, throughout the journey to the hospital. Once we reached the hospital, he carried me and hurried into the delivery suite. Lying on the back of his skinny but warmth body, a thought crossed my mind: In my lifetime, who else would love me as much as he did?

He held the delivery suite door opened and watch me go in, his warm eyes caused me to managed a smile at him despite my contraction pain.

Coming out of the delivery room, hubby looked at our son and me, his eyes tear with joy and he kept smiling. I reached out and touched his hand.

Hubby looked at me, smiling and then he slowly collapsed onto the floor. I cried out for him in pain... He smiled, but without opening that tired eyes of his...

I had thought that I would never shed any tear for him, but the truth is, I have never felt a deeper pain cutting through my body at that moment.

Doctor said that by the time hubby discovered he had liver cancer, it was already in terminal stage and it was a miracle that he managed to last this long. I asked the doctor when did he first discover he had cancer? Doctor said about 5 months ago and consoled me saying: "Prepare for his funeral." I disregarded the nurse's objection and rushed home, I went into his room and checked his computer, and a suffocating pain hits me.

Hubby's cancer was discovered 5 months ago, his groaning was real, and I had thought that... the computer showed over 200 thousand words he wrote for our son: "Son, just for you, I have persisted, to be able to take a look at you before I fall, is my biggest wish now... I know that in your life, you will have many happiness and maybe some setbacks, if only I can accompany you throughout that journey, how nice would it be. But daddy now no long has that chance. Daddy has written inside here all the possible difficulties and problems you may encounter during your lifetime, when you meet with these problems, you can refer to daddy's suggestion... Son, after writing these 200 thousand words, I feel as if I have accompanied you through your life journey. To be honest, daddy is very happy. Do love your mother, she has suffered, she is the one who loves you most and also the one who loves me most..." From play school to primary school, to secondary, university, to work and even in dealing with questions of love, everything big and small was written there.

Hubby has also written a letter for me:

"My dear, to marry you is my biggest happiness, forgive me for the pain .

I have caused you, forgive me for not telling you my illness, because I want to see you be in a joyful mood waiting for the arrival of our baby... My dear, if you cried, it means that you have forgiven me and I would smile, thank you for loving me... These presents, I'm afraid I cannot give them to our son personally, could you help me to give some of them to him every year, the dates on what to give when are all written on the packaging..." Going back to the hospital, hubby is still in coma. I brought our son over and place him beside him. I said: "Open your eyes and smile, I want our son to remember being in the warmth of your arms..."

He struggled to open his eyes and managed a weak smile. Our son still in his arms was happily waving his tiny hands in the air. I press the button on the camera and the sound of the shutter rang thought the air as tears slowly rolled down my face...

The End...

P/S : After reading this article, I can really feel my heart ache for the sad and unfortunate turn of event in the writer's life.... It really shows the importance of communication, especially when its between your love ones....

Have a good weekend. Smiles!