The Catherine Lim Collection (43 page)

Everyone thought that the test was a very
difficult one, for the Wise Man of Singapore had such extensive knowledge and
wisdom that it would be difficult, nay impossible, to ask him a question for
which he would be unable to provide the correct answer. His knowledge was as
boundless as the sky, as deep as the ocean. Still, the young men of Singapore
were so smitten by the charms of Singapore Princess, that they were prepared to
undergo any test. They were of course fully aware of the penalty attached to
failure, but being totally enamoured of Singapore Princess, the likes of whom
they had never seen and knew they would never see again, they were prepared to
face the most direful consequences of failure.

So the contest began. Oh, the knowledge, the
erudition of the Wise Man of Singapore! There was nothing that he did not know.
The young men, armed with the most difficult questions that they had racked
their brains to devise, were no match for him. He answered every single
question correctly. He knew everything.

“What was the colour of the tie of the first
President of Singapore at his inauguration?’ All waited with bated breath. The
Wise Man replied calmly and confidently, ‘Blue’ and added, ‘with thin yellow
diagonal stripes.”

“Give the name of the Chinese gentleman who
had the most wives, give the number of his wives, the number of his offspring,
and the year of his death.”

The Wise Man, smilingly fingering the
venerable hairs on his chin, said, ‘Mr Tan Mong Pee, number of legal wives 11,
number of offspring (including those by illegal wives) 74, year of death 1952,
at the ripe old age of 88.’

Everyone gasped.

“Which part of a woman’s anatomy would it be
necessary for her to have a mole if she wished continuous good luck for her
husband during the first seven years of their marriage?”

Here the Wise Man looked down and
contemplated his long tapering fingers; the watching crowds thought, “Maybe
this one’s got him stumped,” but it was a momentary distraction only, for he
looked up and said serenely, “Two centimetres above the right corner of her
upper lip.”

“How much did the Minister of Finance have
in his Post Office savings account when he was 11 years old?”

“Three dollars and seventy-five cents. All
in stamps.”

“What percentage decrease has there been in
the choice of the name of “Ah Kow” for male babies over the last 15 years, and
what percentage increase has there been in the choice of western names over the
same period?”

“Now that’s a difficult one,” thought the
crowd, and looked anxiously at the Wise Man. The Wise Man, by now enjoying the
aura of genuine admiration that had gathered around him, said with a benign
smile, “65.7 per cent decrease in relation to ‘Ah Kow’; 68.4 per cent increase
in relation to western names.”

The crowd roared their admiration. The poor
nonplussed young man whose questions had failed to topple the Wise Man from his
seat of knowledge and learning, was led away, looking very dispirited, by Lady
Matchmaker to claim his bride, an over-eager maiden of 38 who, upon sight of
the good-looking young man, broke into a cry of delight and claimed immediate
possession.

And so the questioning went on, and the
questions became harder and harder, but the Wise Man could answer them all. And
so the saddened young suitors were led away, one by one, to the brides waiting
eagerly for them. One of the suitors, on seeing his bride who was twice his
size and had enormous projecting front teeth, fell into a swoon, but was soon
revived, and very sadly he went away to a far-off part of Singapore and was
never heard of or seen again.

Now there came a young man from the
furthermost part of the country, who said that he too wanted to try to win the
hand of Singapore Princess. Nobody had seen him before, and all looked at him
with pity, for they were certain that, like the rest, he would fail the test,
and would have to marry the last remaining unwed maid, an astonishingly plain
maid with an enormous mole in the middle of her forehead and very large,
coarse-looking hands and feet.

This young man was the handsomest of the
suitors, and as soon as Singapore Princess set eyes on him, she thought, “Oh, I
would be so happy to be his wife! Look at his noble mien, his princely
bearing!” And she was crestfallen at the thought that like all the others
before him, he would be outwitted by the Wise Man of Singapore.

The young man, exuding confidence, was ready
with his questions, one for each day of the week. The crowds came to watch,
numbering in the thousands, for the news of the bold young man had spread far
and wide and created a stir. Some had come in the expectation of seeing him led
off to marry Maiden Big Mole (for that was the somewhat unkind nickname given
to the remaining unwed maid); some had come in the hope that this unusual young
man would live up to his promise, outwit the Wise Man (who was becoming a
little too arrogant in his success) and win the hand of the beauteous Princess.

On the first day, the young man, folding his
arms across his chest, and looking straight at the Wise Man, asked in a clear
loud voice, “What do Singapore men and women want of each other as marriage
partners?”

The Wise Man lifted his hooded eyes very
slowly in response to the insultingly simple question, then launched into an
extended discourse on the qualities and attributes that Singapore men and women
looked for in each other, quoting in detail from the Marriage Manual that had
been published by Lady Matchmaker’s matchmaking organisation (which, indeed, he
had had a hand in preparing). He paused, and the young man said, “Incorrect!
The correct answer is this: Singapore men like their women to be all dollared
up and the women like all the men to be Cashanovas, for the sake of marital
har-money.”

The crowds roared their agreement, and the
Wise Man was about to make a protest but changed his mind and subsided into
quiet muttering.

The next day, the young man, again looking
intently at the Wise Man, said, “Singaporean Chinese have very short ones,
whereas Singaporean Indians have much longer ones. What are these?”

“Easy,” thought the Wise Man, but in
deference to the ladies present in the crowd, he merely whispered the answer in
the young man’s ear, cupping a hand over the ear to make doubly sure that the
ladies would not hear.

“Wrong!” shouted the young man triumphantly.
“The answer is ‘Surnames’!” The crowds rocked in merriment.

On the third day, the young man, with a
stern look on his princely brow, asked, “What evidence is there that the
population control policy of Singapore had applied to and continues to apply to
animals as well?”

The Wise Man had a quizzical frown on his
face; the crowds looked at him in increasing excitement. The Wise Man tried to
think of all the animals in the Chinese zodiac on which the question might have
some bearing, but he was able to mentally reach only the eighth in the list of
twelve animals before his time was up, and the young man proclaimed with gusto,
“The answer is: All the signs in Singapore that say ‘No Littering, Please’!”

The crowds were so impressed by the young
man’s cleverness that it was some time before they recovered from their
amazement and began to cheer him loudly.

On the fourth day, the young man (who by now
was exuding the total confidence of the victor) looked straight at the Wise Man
(who by now was showing the nervousness of the loser) and asked, “Which
Shakespearean play is the favourite of Singapore’s ‘hum-subs’?”

Now the Wise Man had detailed knowledge of
all of Singapore’s ‘hum-subs’; he knew exactly how many there were, and he knew
how their propensity for lechery was manifested by great physiological
diversity, such as clusterings of moles on the ears, a bulbous nose or a rotund
belly, and he knew precisely the kinds of Chinese comics that they devoured in
secret, but he had no idea of the Shakespearean plays that they read. Soon his
time was up, and the young man said with much aplomb, “The answer is ‘King
Leer’!”

The crowds were thrilled by such a display
of brilliance. The ‘hum-subs’ among the crowds took mental note of the title of
the play for their future reading.

On the fifth day, the young man, with a
great deal of flourish (for he had a tendency to be a little theatrical) asked,
“What advice from Confucius is posted up for the benefit of lovers in the
Chinese Garden and other courting haunts in Singapore?”

The question caused much excitement in the
crowds, and everybody turned to look at the Wise Man. There was an air of great
suspense. Now the Wise Man knew the exact number of lovers who had gone to the
Chinese Garden and the other courting haunts in Singapore, from the very day
that these were thrown open to the public for the purpose, and he remembered a
sign near a pond in the Chinese Garden that said ‘No Fishing’, not because
lovers had shown any interest in that activity but because a couple, on one
occasion, had parked themselves too close to the pond, and had rolled into it,
being deep in mud and lotus leaves before they were aware of what had happened.

The Wise Man therefore said, “No Fishing”
but his answer was drowned out by a jubilant roar from the young man, “No! The
correct answer is: “Love woman under tree, because willow talk less dangerous
than pillow talk!”

The crowd cheered wildly; they thought it
was excellent advice, and many made a mental note of it, intending to profit by
it the next time they went to the Chinese Garden. On the sixth day, the young
man, his eyes two glittering orbs of fire, asked in a thunderous voice, “What
evidence is there that polygamy is encouraged in Singapore?”

The Wise Man was momentarily thrown off
balance by this question and was about to protest that polygamy was not
encouraged in Singapore when the young man cried out loudly, “The answer is the
slogan that all of you are familiar with: ‘Have three or more – if you can afford’!”

The crowd was wild with jubilation; an
elderly gentleman with a bald head was heard to chuckle in glee, “Good! Now I
can bring all four out of hiding and make respectable women out of them! I can
afford them!”

On the seventh and last day, the crowds were
so large that it was almost impossible to control them. They gathered round
with mounting eagerness, looking expectantly at the young man as he stood up to
his
full height and surveyed all of them with princely hauteur before he addressed
the final question to the Wise Man. And the question was this: “What local food
in Singapore presents a biological puzzle to tourists?”

Now the Wise Man’s knowledge of biology,
like his knowledge of history and folklore was extensive, but somehow he had
never connected it with food or tourists. By this time, however, he had more or
less lost confidence in himself, so he merely shrugged his shoulders in defeat,
at which the young man shouted above the heads of the crowds: “Fish ball soup!”

Everyone applauded enthusiastically. The
applause went on and on, and everyone wanted to congratulate the young man,
both for his brilliance of mind and for winning Singapore Princess as his
bride. The Wise Man slunk away, looking subdued and humbled and promising to be
less complacent in future and to gain more knowledge of Singaporeans.

Lady Matchmaker, although somewhat
disappointed that she had lost the opportunity of disposing of Maiden Big Mole
(who was likely, following the destruction of her most cherished dream, to be
more difficult than ever), was, on the whole, pleased that the contest had
resulted in her successfully getting husbands for the rest of the maidens. The
only person she felt sorry for, apart from Maiden Big Mole, was the Wise Man of
Singapore, but with a certain plan that she intended to carry out very soon,
she was confident that he too would reap the benefits of the contest. The plan
was this: She would seek him out in the place where he had gone into hiding,
declare her love and admiration for him and propose that they get married,
thereby fulfilling her ambition to enlarge the circle of beneficiaries of her
matchmaking prowess to include herself. As for the young man and Singapore
Princess, there was not a happier couple in the land. They got married soon afterwards,
and lived happily ever after.

Twice the
concatenation of favourable
events had almost taken
place, and twice, exactly at the moment of my being poised for flight from the
cosmic void to the fecund womb of Mrs Esther Wong, the events which had been
gathering with such promise, suddenly dispersed, and I was left once more to
groan in the drear prospect of a long, long wait.

Let me describe the first Concatenation that
almost was.

“I want another child,” says Mr Wong Cheer
Kia, and “Yes, I too want another child,” says Mrs Esther Wong.

“We must have the child soon,” says Mr Wong
Cheer Kia, and his wife says fervently, “Yes, soon.”

Now the impelling power behind this
remarkable conjugal mutuality is Tradition.

Tradition has put into the bloodstreams of
men and women the desire for male children, so that at the moment of a baby’s
birth, parents and grandparents peer between the baby’s legs and say: “Ugh!”
and turn away in disgust if it is a girl-child. Six fine healthy daughters are
as nothing compared to the one puny boy who comes after them. All the parental
energies and resources will henceforth be diverted to the protection of the
infant from the evil spirits, and it will not matter if the daughters are fed
rice gruel, as long as the best parts of meat and herbs are reserved for the
son.