Minister Ng Eng Hen is quite wrong

I didn't know my little sister was capable of writing something like that, this proves that one can be bilingual, and would possibly refute whatever Minister Ng might be thinking.

Flight by Ng Wai Ting

I had lived in the same flat for the past ten years. Enjoying the same scenery every morning when I open the door, walking down the same flight of stairs numerous times a day, it was no doubt that there was an invisible connection I shared with that flight of stairs. As I was walking down the flight of stairs for the last time, every step I took reminded me of the memories I had before. A sense of nostalgia overcame me and I could not help but stop at almost every step.

One step. I was only four years old and standing at the height of 1.1m. At that time, I felt like Jack ready to conquer the beanstalk just like in the fairytale. I was eager to occupy the same house that I have visited before moving in; the only difference was the absence of echoes after every spoke word. My mother held my tiny hand which was almost the size of a cat’s paw. I stretched my chubby legs as far as I could and was near breathless after struggling up the flight of stairs.

Two steps. It was after the first day of school. I dreaded the feeling of not knowing anyone and desiring for someone whom I could talk to in school. The weight of books in my bag slowed me down even though I was dying to go home. The first day in school was not exactly the best for me unlike others who had the hell out of a time. I heaved a sigh of relief as I landed my foot on the last step at the top of the flight of stairs.

Three steps. I was ranked first in class for the first time ever in my life. The encouraging words in the report book stared at me as though they were praising me for the most intelligent child on Earth. I could not contain the joy bubbling inside me and I wanted everyone to know about this news I was proud of. I screamed, “I got first! I got first!” and dashed up the flight of stairs. Needless to say, the news arrived home before I even did.

Four steps. I was dejected after seeing my father slapped my mother. That was the worst scene that a child could ever witness. There was no one there to help me and streams of tears rolled down my cheeks like an open tap. I hid at the flight of stairs whereby no one could see me. It seemed like the stairs knew what I was feeling, embracing me in its arms. The wind blew as though it was whispering comforting words to my ears, making me feel better. I was lost in a time warp, oblivious to the surroundings.

Five steps. I was in love. I would always linger around the flight of stairs, reminiscing of the times we spent in school for fear of letting the cat out of the bag. It would have been doomsday for me if any sound of the relationship traveled to my mother. I smiled at every thought of him and the words he spoke that melted my heart. My heart beat against my chest like a stick hitting on a drum; it was the sound of love. Bliss cloaked me like medieval armour. I was amongst the ninth cloud and over the moon.

I was taking the last few steps of the flight of stairs. I was stepping into the future and letting go of the past. I carried my luggage and the fond memories I had. I took a breath and air gushes through my lungs. Change was arriving.