A bus ride through space and time [2015]
Medium · Life & Meaning · 2017 · 813 words
Visa captures a nostalgic bus ride accompanied by Radiohead, where memories of teenage years braid into present reflections on existence.
A bus ride through space and time [2015]
In 2015, I was taking a bus from somewhere to meet my wife for coffee at Siglap Starbucks. For some reason, I decided to listen to Radiohead’s OK Computer on Spotify. I used to own the CD as a teenager, and I used to play it on my discman, often while riding along this bus route. I’ve travelled along this stretch of road literally thousands of times, and I have many memories associated with practically everything along the way.
I was feeling nostalgic, so I decided to take pictures and post them on Instagram. Here are the pictures I took, with the captions I wrote. I took these pictures from a moving bus, so they’re not great, but I’m glad I took them all the same. Singapore changes fast, and all of this will be gone before long.
I’m listening to ok computer and it’s 2006 and I’m in my vs uniform with my discman in my pocket and you’re in your pinafore and hoodie and you’re sleeping on my shoulder
And we’re on the bus to bedok from orchard where we’ll have McDonald’s at bedok princess, and maybe we’ll kiss and think wow, this is why we are alive
It’s 2015 and I see more clearly now. I am as much a participant as I am an observer- a pattern in spacetime dancing, playing and exploring itself. A function of the entire universe. There is no need to be anything but at ease. We are waves of existence, kaleidoscopic motifs of color and light.
It’s 2007 and we didn’t go to school today. We had McDonald’s breakfast at Parkway Parade, bought MCs at marine parade polyclinic and now we’re laughing and smoking contraband cigarettes before we go to play LAN in a dingy old cafe. Counter-terrorists win.
It’s 2012 and we’re retaking our A Levels. We decide to watch The Iron Lady on a whim. I hop on your bike and off we go. We get stopped by some NEA blokes for smoking “under the sheltered area”. Nobody’s around! For the first time, I wonder if smoking is really more trouble than it’s worth. Thatcher is dead now.
It’s 2000 and I am very sick with a high fever. The pharmacist calls my name- my mother knocks on the door anyway, a polite habit I’ll never shake. Dr. Kai smiles and laughs asks me in Tamil, “Have you eaten? “ I am no longer short enough to need the stool to see the prescription on the counter. I’m always curious about the Chinese paintings on the walls, and Dr. Kai’s adult daughters smiling from the wall. They seem so intelligent.
I’m not sure what the year is, but we’ve been under each other’s skin too long to need to wait, and you can book hotels on the Internet. The air conditioning is lovely. We cuddle under the comforters and dream of the day we will have a home of our own. We eat tom yum cup noodles and cookies with milk- our unique oddball delight. We smoke out of the window. Everything is closed.
It’s 2007 and we sit at the bus stop with our guitars, practicing our Everly Brothers harmonies, excited about our impending stardom- but more, really, that we each found a friend.
It’s 1999. Dad needs to park the truck real quick and make a stopover to strike it big. He never does.
It is 1996, and mum likes bringing me along to the bank for company. We have hotcakes afterwards. If we’re going grocery shopping, I might just get a chance to buy some Archie comics! (I got separated and lost once, and sat at the entrance and cried.)
2012. An ex-banker buys me a beer and offers to pay me $50/article to write for him. It is one of many little kindnesses I receive from strangers, helping me believe that I could do this writing thing.
It’s 2009- A Level year. I tell myself it’s time to get serious, but then I throw $300 down the drain here- in the form of a rollie cigarette. It’s not even a butt, I try to explain. I wanted to run for it but all my stuff was inside, and my drink. I resigned- it was my fault. I fucked up, as I always did.
It is 2011 and my friends have honored me with their support for my strange writing habit. I lug my laptop to Starbucks in my State-issued Army slingbag and buy overpriced Mocha Frappucinos. I write lazily, ogling at pretty young girls in their tans, spaghetti straps and tiny shorts. Within these walls I nourish a seed that would flourish and support me as I stumble through life.
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Originally published at https://medium.com/@visakanv/a-bus-ride-through-space-and-time-2015-c643dcdb9088.