I was back on
the bus today - the Molly Bus. Molly is a mobile library that I happened upon
in a chance but delightful encounter a month or so ago. I have written about
this previously in a piece called 'Hairy Maclary' - so I will not recant this
convergence again.
Molly is
operated by the National Library of Singapore and it is an Outreach service.
The bus is driven around the Island to provide book lending to little children
who have limitations in accessing the few public libraries that are here on the
Island. The bus is stocked with more than 3000 books. It is also decked out
with a reading area at the rear of the vehicle where book readings and story
telling is conducted.
On Sundays the
bus is driven by a very colorful character whose name is Mitra. He is an
enormous and jovial Indian Singaporean. The name Mitra is Hindi. Mitra told me
that the English translation of this is 'friend'. I find this quite fitting and
appropriate. Mitra is now a friend of mine and I like him a lot. I think he may
well be the friend of everyone he meets. His smile is beaming and his voice is
booming and Mitra's laughter is infectious. He loves driving Molly the mobile
library bus and he adores reading to the children.
I enjoy his
company very much.
I have been on
the bus a couple of times now with Mitra. I have volunteered to read stories.
Where I live in Novena is generally one of Molly's last stops for the day so
Mitra very kindly swings by and picks me up earlier. The bus is too big to come
through the driveway and turnaround area of my apartment complex so I wait out
the front for him to arrive. I await at the front of the Guard House for my
condominium where the new and much improved security guards are posted. Their
names are Raj and Raj. They are also Indian chaps.
The Security
manager of my apartment building replaced the previous security guards because
they slept on duty - all the time. I have also written about this before so I
will not bother going through the whole saga again. Suffice to say Raj and Raj
are very attentive and alert. They are Sikh gentlemen who take their duties
very seriously. When Mr. Tan introduced me to the new guards last week he told
them - quite incorrectly - that I was a most important tenant - just because I
sit on the somewhat impotent Owners and Tenants Committee - and more so I think
because we share a mutual disdain of another tenant. Jens the lunatic Dane.
When I passed
the security guard house this afternoon to wait for Mitra and Molly, Raj and
Raj emerged from the hut and stood at attention and they then gave me a very
formal salute. I have told them repeatedly that this is not at all necessary
but they have been doing it all week - whenever I arrive or leave.
It is getting
ridiculous.
"Guys
you really don't have to salute me every time you see me. In fact you don't
have to salute me at all. I am not worthy of it" I said once again.
"It is
being our honor and our greatest privilege Mr. Peter sir" one the Raj's replied.
"Well
at least please just call me Peter. You can drop the Mister and the Sir". I implored
I have also
told them this a number of times before.
"We
will never be doing that Mr. Peter Sir" the other Raj said.
I just slumped
my shoulders and sighed at this.
"Has
the fat Danish fucker been causing you any trouble?" I asked.
I was referring
to the lunatic that is Jens.
"He is
being calling us rude names and is being making the birding hand at us"
"The
birding hand?" I enquired.
One of the
Raj's coyly and I think somewhat reluctantly demonstrated the 'birding hand'.
It was actually what Americans refer to as 'The Bird". It is conducted by
showing the back of a closed fist and extending the middle finger. I laughed
out loud when he showed me this and the poor Raj blushed in embarrassment.
"The
Bird" gesture is also known as "Flipping the Bird" or
"Giving the Finger". Somewhat ironically it is also on occasion
referred to as the "One Fingered Salute". It is considered obscene
and is a symbolic hand sign for "fuck off" or "fuck you".
It is a gesture of contempt and disrespect and it's use is universal. I have on
occasion used it myself - on more than one occasion in fact and I will likely
use it again.
"The
Bird" is not a modern invention. The gesture dates back thousands of years
and was used by both the Ancient Greeks and the Romans. With the tragedy that
is the current Greek and Italian economies I would imagine that it's use is
still common in these modern societies as well. The Greeks and Italians would
be quite appropriately be giving the birding hand to their governments and to the
World Banks for devastating their economies and robbing them of their hard
earned savings.
I give these
governments and banks the birding hand myself.
In Ancient
Greece the extension of the middle finger represented a phallus. A dick. The
closed fist was symbolic of testicles and the gesture was offered to suggest an
insulting engagement in anal intercourse. The gesture was referred to as "katapugon'. This
translates to "a male who submits to anal penetration". Apparently
Socrates used it a lot in the Greek Parliament.
Bless him.
The Latin term
that the Romans used for the 'birding hand' was "digitus
impudicus". This meant the "shameless, indecent or
offensive finger".
It was
considered to be very rude.
I told Raj and
Raj not to worry about Jens and not to take him too seriously. I informed them
that he gave the birding hand to everyone. I told them that he was a mad man.
"Don't
salute him whatever you do" I suggested.
"We
are only being saluting you Mr. Peter and Mr. Tan"
For fuck's
sake. I only thought this - I did not say it. I have no desire to in any way
insult the gentlemen that are Raj and Raj.
Mitra arrived
then in Molly the bus. He parked the huge vehicle out the front of my apartment
complex and he jumped out of the drivers seat. He greeted me with a crushing
bear hug and a broad grin.
"Let
us go and be reading to the children my Australian friend Mr. Peter" he roared at me.
"No
worries Mitra let us be on our way" I replied.
As I climbed
into the passenger seat I noticed that the two Raj's were standing in stiff
salutes and they maintained this posture until we took off. All I could do was
sigh and shrug and wave goodbye.
Mitra and I
chatted about books and India and cricket and children in our drive across the
western district of Singapore. We laughed a lot. Mitra has seven children and
fifteen grandchildren and two more grandchildren are on the way.
We made five
stops before we arrived back at Novena where I alighted the bus.
At each stop
we made there was an orderly line of cute little Indian, Singaporean and
Chinese children waiting for Molly. Mitra opened the big side doors of Molly
and he patiently swapped books out and stamped cards. My job was the story
reading. I am gradually working my way through the Hairy Maclary series of
books. These are very funny and poetic tales about a naughty farmhouse dog and
his adventures with his dog mates and his arch enemy the terrifying cat
Scarface Claw. I put on my dog and scary cat voices when I read and both the children
and their parents seemed to enjoy the stories - almost as much as me.
On the last
stop at Katong a tiny little Indian girl about 5 years old shyly asked me if I
could read some of her favorite story Thumbelina and I told her that of course
I could. She sat in the big chair next to me as I read the story.
I used to read
the same story to my little Charlotte when she was about the same age so it
brought back beautiful memories. My little Totty is not so little anymore. She
is nearly eighteen years old but she is still my baby and my how she writes.
She wants to be a Writer and she has since she was a little girl. Words can not
adequately describe my love for her and my pride in her.
I miss her
every moment of every day.
Time passed
quickly on my journey with Mitra on Molly as it always does.
I won't be
able to go next week because I will be in London for work. I will be amongst
the cursed English for whom I work. I explained this to Mitra as I said
goodbye. He again crushed all the air out of me as he hugged me farewell. He
seemed as disappointed as me that we would not see each other for a couple of
weeks.
I walked home
slowly feeling happy at having such a joyous afternoon. Raj and Raj were
waiting dutifully at their post when I arrived at my complex and they again
snapped to a stiff attention and saluted me as I walked up the driveway.
I sighed and
smiled and saluted them back.
No comments :
Post a Comment