Japanese Chopsticks
Monday, July 24, 2006

Ever since late Grandpa left behind an unalterable will to beneficiaries, with clearly apportioned assets to each, antagonizing feelings over contrivance done aforetime proliferate.
Clattering of the Japanese wooden chopsticks were the only audible vibrations present in the air, with exceptions being made to the occasional melodic sounds produced when met with the porcelain bowls. Everyone just feast upon in solitude as the maids took turns to brandish out gourmet dishes which only the affluent can afford everyday.
Breaking the solemn silence was 3rd Aunt's sudden expectorations of phlegm. Everybody lifted their heads up, as if startled by a spewing MG. Grandma then took the chance to sweep a casual glance over all the people at the dining table, after fixating her eyes down for far too long. Perhaps vexation, greed, and uncertainties have been suppressed for too long. Big Uncle took the liberty, just like Grandma, to bring everything all up. He slammed the dining table loudly, hurled a string of profanities before shouting, "Why ever did Dad leave me only 40% of his assets? Am I not his only son?"
Everybody was rooted to his or her seats; not even the maids moved. But, he seemed to speak the unsaid words of his other 3 siblings.
Grandma deadpanned as she looked into the eyes of somebody she no longer knew - the gem of she and her late spouse, the courteous Ace student, the praised-by-many filial son...
"Why did Dad channel 20% to charity? He thinks we have got enough to share??" His voice stormed through the sturdy landed property situated in the middle of Bukit Timah area and echoed through the ears of those present.
Seemingly, material gains, fame and power have depraved him, saturating his mind with only thoughts of "Ways to Get Rich Within 10 Minutes" - it was a stark contrast to the boy who lived in Grandma's recollections.
Indeed, transformation of her favorite child has dealt her a humongous blow. She raised her hand high enough to fly a decent slap across his face whilst convulsing in anger. Suddenly, her agitation caused the relapse of her weak heart. As she collapsed on the ground gracefully, she grabbed her beloved son by the hand, and cast a loving gaze at him for one last time.
Achromatic colors gave a one-time flash before she fell into pitch-dark unconsciousness; snippets of memories over her 88 years lived ran furiously in her mind. She wondered for the last time what death really is, as she embarked on her afterlife that has just begun.

Valerie (above is not based on a true story)

YWith love, Valerie