Let it rain

Heavy and voluminous, the rain finally came, washing off all the ashes and the dust that loomed in the atmosphere. And the air is clear and crisp once again.

I thank God for the rain for I had felt completely choked in the last two days. Late Wednesday night marked the start of the infamous seventh month of the Lunar calendar, a period fondly known to many Chinese as the hungry ghosts' festival where the whole month is marked with "celebrations" of the burning of massive joss papers and sticks and amusing Getai performances all across the country. Hmmm, but not at Kampong Glam, I suppose.

As I opened my windows for the first time in two days, I couldn't help but notice the numerous patches of burnt grass and charred spots on the concrete pavements in the neighbourhood. I couldn't help but wonder if these are considered acts of vandalism. Maybe they're not; they are part of the religious tolerance we have been educated on time and again. Recalling Uncle Goh's speech on the challenge of an increasingly diversed and religious population in Singapore, I bemused over the lack of control on the burning fiasco, sensitivity (or the lack of) to other races and religions notwithstanding. And I mourned the demise of my clean and green garden city, or at least the lawn in my neighbourhood, which has momentarily been transformed into smouldering parched plots.

The air is fresh now, but for how long?