Bukit Panjang : hill, village, town

Edwin Nadason Thumboo (b. 22 November 1933, Singapore - ), Emeritus Professor at National University of Singapore's Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences, is widely regarded as the unofficial poet laureate of Singapore. He is best known for writing on national issues. His poem, "Ulysses by the Merlion", is a major work in Singapore literature. He was the first Singaporean to be conferred the SEA Write Award and the Cultural Medallion for Literature in 1979 and 1980 respectively. His other awards include the National Book Development Council prizes for poetry (1978, 1980, 1994), the ASEAN Cultural and Communication Award in Literature (1987), the Public Service Star (Bar) in 1991, and the Meritorious Service Medal in 2006. Note: Written permission from the poet (edwin@nus.edu.sg) is required if the poem recording is used for anything other than classroom teaching in Singapore. Bukit Panjang: Hill, Village, Town by Edwin Thumboo I Long Hill…way up, semi-north: Time-traveller; master of winds: you Culled our seasons years before we Glimpsed your contours. You Rolled south to be the tip of Mother Asia, Picking up names like Bukit Batok. You Finally stopped for tectonic breath, at Mt Sophia; your last spur is Fort Canning. Still steady stately un-stressed, you Our vigilant secret dragon saw further Than Brit radars, timeless atop your peaks. They genuflexed setting sun, rising moon, Trying to spot Konfrontasi: a word, a fear, A rant, an impunity that briefly sired a little Neighbourly bloodiness. Pray wars have Killed themselves, that skirmishes and riots Miss our little red dot while we work to Push coasts against the tide, flats higher, Float IPOs, plant splendours-in-the-park, Though we are yet to parcel out the sky. Granite, soil, sub-soil; beds of moss: you Flew our flag umpteen years; covenanted Ten faiths and more, aligned and bonded Immigrant syllables for our daily bread. That we, too, did, as undergrads scouting Wild mid-50 ridges, skirting colonial camps, As butterflies rode winds, tilting to joust Fragrant moments as swifts snatched morsels. When we got merdeka and you, sub judice, We tickled your knuckles and your toes; Bit and dressed them; trimmed; dressaged; Progressed; installed occasional oddities. Those were… the days …my friend Not the ones…with....deadly ends. II If you seek how nations push and punish History, then know how one side’s glory, Jacked high, is the other’s killing field. 1940: families, places, weather too, felt Threats of war, disturbing indicative ICs For security; black-outs; makeshift air-raid Shelters; nifty camouflage; troops puffing Bag-pipes; aircraft strafing for the ARP; Such fun for us kids, those games. Papa in the MAS had duties. I see Station-cum- policemen, neatly kept, Dreaming on a knoll, now flattened, Concretised into Lot 1. It had chikus, Rose-apples, guavas, rambutans; ripe, Un-refrigerated; scrumptious, low; Eyed by merbaks; occasional pairs Of drongos, Golden Oriels; restless Dragon-flies. I plucked I ate I juiced My shirt. Leaf-washed sticky thumb And fingers, face beaming innocence. Those too were the days my friend, I thought they would never, ever end. Village, you buzzed half-corralled By make-shift barricades, barbed wire; Ciphers of wars echoing from far away. Yet deep night-thoughts rehearsed relatives’ Uncertain lives in China’s ravaged coast, Grown skeletally bitter under a Nippon sun. III I watched you, our epicentre, from Mid-seventies Phoenix Heights. Newly Minted. Perhaps unconscious love saved Small clusters of rubber, durian, Mango, Tembusu, pulasan, mangosteen. Higher Up the slope were vigorous tickets whose Gloaming blew usual night safari sounds. Nostalgia is a habitation with many names. Below, our BPG Chapel, Nearer my God To Thee, where Dhana baptised me. Feed Us Your Daily Bread, O Lord. Forgive; Cleanse; fold us into everlasting love. Your only Son, No sin to hide But You have sent Him from Your side To walk upon this guilty sod And to become the Lamb of God. Amen. Those PAP days were rapid fire; heaving. Planners with satellite towns itching In their brains, came super charged. Across nearby postal tracks, a highway Dots unseen eyes to cut through granite. Steel jaws open Earth by chomping hard, Boneless, compacted beige Jurassic loam. Dishevelled, in the making, traffic-less, Ideal for walking friends discussing Whatever strikes a spark to turn and burn A thought, or prime life’s little ironies. Often, alone among deserted farms Nesting in hill and vale, mist and dew, I am back in Mandai, on bunds dividing Ponds. Pooish air. A loo in a shaded corner Where softest pops implode when fish rise For air. I watch widening ripples fade. I turn. Where the Hill should be stand Rows of papayas, over-ripe, unplucked. Old ladies return to hungry dogs, harvest Memories, whatever hangs, then head to Market to sell to chat to meet old friends. ‘Has Ah Noi given birth? How much did You get for those ducks? These spectacles? Too modern!’ enjoying a circuitry grown Over years, but now declining, as another Wooden shed is shredded in just hours. Where is the cinema, large zinc box, Just off the road, by the railway tracks? At times when hero and heroine are Poised to clinch, whistle blasts warn The level-crossing, shake their moment. And kway teow, lush with cockles, lard, Bean sprouts, sweet sauce and chillies For that special taste, alive, alive O? These are the missing days my friend, They have rusted, met their end. Now What’s up? Getting townish, you? I should Say! Regular brick blocks carefully aligned. French tile roofs, sliding doors, tinted windows; Traffic lights overseeing Upper Bukit Timah, Choa Chu Kang and Woodlands. Double lines. Road widening. Paid parking. Dispensaries. Improvements? Perhaps. One thing’s certain. You are getting plump with amenities. IV Chipped, levelled, upgraded; possibly Burrowed by modest MinDef air-cond Tunnels shyly hidden, you protect While I stride memories, circle your Amplitude. You are a special spine To many things; Little Guilin; hip condos…. But it’s not military readiness, or the past, As when a tiger purred to church, or Chu rei to and Cross raised to bravery. Time rolls and curves upon itself: Today is tomorrow is today. You Dream, draw and cast shadows, Yours and ours. People come together, Simultaneous, complicated, overlapping, Merge life-styles. Make one out of many. Like our multiplexes. Fusion, now in vogue, Is one of 144 buzz words. We change colour And rhythm; urbanise; always multiracial. English bounces off the wall; Chinese via PRs; Tamil chanted between pealing temple bells. Days start with Majula Singapura, shared By long cherished neighbours: Kum Kit-Fatmah, Cecil-Thana, James-Lee Fah, And others on this walk with you, sub-city. I escaped your big brother 40 years ago. As you grew, so my irritation prospered, Loosed by curt efficiency, sharp politeness. Now I feel a creeping love, abetted by age, Your sweet convenience, evergreen spirit, Like the school just down the road. Above all, in the House of the Lord, where I Grew again, am fed on the Word for that Eternal Journey which makes this a fitter one. Soon the MRT arrives, me still travelling… Long Hill…way up, semi-north, time-adventurer; Master of winds, culling our seasons, in all moods And weather, as we glimpse your changing contours. You will be here, expanding, when we Have gone. June/July 2012 Singapore (1) Konfrontasi: Indonesia opposed the formation of Malaysia that brought together Singapore, Sabah, Sarawak and the Federation of Malaysia in 1963. Popularly known as Konfrontasi, it was not a full scale war. Indonesian armed forces posing as volunteers conducted raids, a notable one being the bombing on 10/3/1965 of MacDonald House in Orchard Rd in which two people were killed. (2) merdeka: Bahasa for freedom; the main nationalist rallying cry in South East Asia. (3) ICs: Identity Card as a precaution against infiltrators (4) ARP: Air Raid Precaution. A UK based organization set up in 1924 and expanded just before WWII, leading to branches in the colonies. Its Wardens – mainly “voluntary” as in the MAS – ensured that black-outs were observed and sand, water tanks, pails, spades, hydrants and hoses were available to fight fires. As schools were spread throughout Singapore, teachers were a prime source of volunteers. (5) MAS: Medical Auxiliary Service developed an extensive network in the period just before WW2 to supplement the work of Hospitals, especially in patient care. (6) BPG Chapel: Bukit Panjang Gospel Chapel where the poet was baptized by Mr S Dhanabalan on 22/3/1922. (7) Lamb of God: Lamb of God, a popular hymn. (8) Majulah Singapura: Singapore’s national anthem which is in Malay.