2000-2005. It was calling me. I could neither see nor smell it, but its last adventure inside my mouth had left pings of brilliant flavour on my taste buds. I wanted more. The incessant nagging of Miss Lau had no effect on my resolve. The obnoxious chattering of my classmates were but a distraction to my one true goal. As soon as the ring-a-ding-dong of the recess bell filled the air, I left for the canteen. This was it. My hands trembled as I failed miserably to wipe the saliva at the corners of my lips off. Serangoon Garden South School had never seen such a ravenous monster before. I did not care. The only thing that was of any importance to me was what was on my plate. It was perfect. One could not ask for a more beautiful slice of Roti Plata. But of course, the Prata would be a mere piece of dough without the delightful curry that came along with it. I loved it. Fifteen minutes a day, everyday for six years, my head spun with excitement and satisfaction from eating Roti Prata. This spectacular round piece of dough will always have a special place in my heart and in my stomach. Roti Prata and curry - a match made in heaven. (Memory collected at the Clementi Public Library during "The Singapore Story: My Heart, My Hope, My Home" campaign from 6 Sep to 31 Dec 2012)