“There’s a Peranakan musical at the Esplanade,” Emily says to her family. “It’s time you kids learn about your culture. Let’s take grandma there. It might brighten her day.”
Winona moans, “Aiyah! So boring lah. I’m not bothered about learning about the old days and old ways…”
“Can’t we go and see Beauty and The Beast instead?” Andie asks.
“That’s a fantastic idea, mum,” enthuses Goldie. “Grandma will love that. What is the title of the play?”
“Kahwin Anak Saya,” Emily says.
“What does that mean?” Andie asks.
“‘Marry My Child’,” Emily says. “I too used to think that heritage doesn’t matter. But I’m beginning to realise that our culture is our roots and foundation. In this age of easy communication with the rest of the world, speaking an Internet lingo, dressing in a global fashion, we can easily morph into a featureless global identity…”
“Mum, that is so astute of you,” Goldie says.
Emily beams with pleasure. She has never understood her eldest daughter before and now she looks at her with renewed sight. For the first time, she sees Goldie’s courage to be who she wants to be even if it is against social norms.
“Wear your sarong kebaya to the play,” Emily says to Goldie. “It will make your grandmother happy. Maybe we should get one made for Winona and Andie too.”
“No way!” Winona says. “I prefer my Prada.”
“I don’t want to look like an old aunty,” Andie says.
“Does your sister look like an old aunty huh? “Emily asks. “Didn’t you see how it enhances her slender figure and made her look so feminine?”
Many women in the audience turn up for the play in their sarong kebayas. Some of the men are wearing batik shirts and even the baju cina or lok chuan, a tunic that harks back to their Chinese ancestry. It is a show of Peranakan solidarity. The play Kahwin Anak Saya or Marry My Child (Daughter) is about a matriarch desperately trying to marry her five daughters off to eligible bachelors to hilarious consequences. The dialogue is a mix of English and Peranakan Hokkien patois. The play is held in the newly refurbished Victoria Theatre. On either side of the stage are digital information screens which translate the Peranakan patois. When the cast sing the Peranakan songs, Emily sees Pansy clapping her hands and smiling. When they break into comedic acts, Pansy laughs out loud.
“Thank you for this,” Anthony whispers to Emily, squeezing her hand. “I’ve not seen mum so cheerful for such a long time.”
Emily is strangely touched.
But Pansy’s joyful moments were not to last for long. The periods of euphoria and calmness become fewer and fewer. Most of the time, Anthony has to dash down to the nursing home to deal with yet another difficult episode. Almost always, it is when Pansy remembers George and yells for him to come to her, throwing food at the nursing staff if they didn’t bring him to her.
As high as we have mounted in delight
In our dejection do we sink as low.
Anthony remembers the quotation from his mother’s old book on Wordsworth’s poems. His mother never goes anywhere without the red leather-covered book, so ancient now that the leather has gone dark and soft, the paper thin and well-thumbed, silverfish amongst the pages. At some level, Anthony is aware that the book, for his mother, is a link to his father. The nursing staff at the home had told him that Pansy often clutches the book to her chest when she sleeps.
“The Gardens is showcasing spring flowers,” Goldie says to Anthony. “Can I borrow your car and take grandma out for the day?”
“You sure you can manage? What if she has one of her episodes?”
“I’ll be all right,” Goldie says, but not that confidently. “She must be missing her English garden and seeing the flowers might make her happy.”
“Oh, okay,” Anthony says. “But call me straightaway if you need help.”
When Goldie picks up her grandmother, Pansy is in a sunny mood.
“When did you get back?” Pansy asks her, as if she hadn’t seen her the previous week. “You look so beautiful.”
Her grandmother seems to know her, yet not know her. She is comfortable and trusting enough to get into Goldie’s car, yet does not seem to have a clear understanding of their relationship, making Goldie wonder if she still thinks of her as her mother. But fragments of their time together are brought up occasionally, which makes Goldie feel that her grandmother does know that Goldie is her granddaughter. However, as they motor along, Pansy repeats the same question over and over again about when she got back. So Goldie decides to respond in a short sentence, in a bright voice, “Oh, I just got back, grandma.”
Nonetheless, Goldie is pained by her grandmother’s deterioration. It appears that Pansy is satisfied with the answer. Goldie fancies that her grandmother is sometimes physically present but mentally elsewhere. It saddens her.
“Do you remember asking me what my third wish was?”
Goldie is taken aback by the sudden question which seems to have come out of the blue. What on earth is her grandmother talking about? A quick shuffle of her mental
