Conrete island paradise

Sitting by the Esplanade at night, looking across the Singapore river at the CBD — an island of light in the night. There is the blazing Fullerton like some ancient temple of Apollo with its pillars and its bright lights like a beacon. Rising above are the towers — Maybank, UOB, HSBC, Hitachi... with their neon signs. And below, the lighted river bank along which must surely lie the narrow bars that I remember from... 5, 6 years ago?

With the great jackfruit of Singapore at my back, and the night lights of the CBD creating a beautiful pointillism landscape on the dark water, I am gripped with strong emotion. Longing. I remember the days of working in the CBD during the long wait between my A-levels and the start of my uni life. Of lunches at the Golden Shoe Carpark. Of walking along the river bank during lunch time and sitting down and having my lunch. Of running over to the the nearby take-away bubble tea shop to "da bao" a little list of orders for my colleagues and myself. Or walking along the riverfront bars. It almost physically hurts. This feeling of missing Singapore engendered by this shining glass and concrete island that rises from the dark, a spectre from the past.

I miss this, I say. I love Singapore. My friend (WS) says, then come back. I shudder involuntarily. I don't love it that much, I reply. The both of them and I laugh. But I do, I do love this little piece of land on the outer rim of the South China Sea. This concrete jungle is in many ways my little island paradise.

The untiringly spouting merlion, lighted in hellish red, stands like a sentry at the river's edge near the Fullterton. I am told it had been moved. Had it? I am told that the entire Marina Square has been revamped ("You'll get lost inside. You won't recognise it."), and the plans for this area of the Marina Bay — a reservoir here, a fresh water lake there, parks all around the rim, and the famous integrated resort over there. My JC has already been razed and reinstituted elsewhere, apparently the old World Trade Centre is now known as Harbour Front, Wisma has now been revamped with this snazzy facade with an escalator outside leading to the new Food Republic (even its logo has changed). And thus, slowly, the romantic landscape of my past is being reshaped. Until one day it will be moulded out of recognition.

No longer will I remember the World Trade Centre (Harbour Front) where we cycled to and used to walk around or study at. No longer will I see the same view while sitting at the sinuous tail of the Merlion at night. No longer will I be able to wander round the nooks and crannies of my old familiar cosy school grounds where we spent many happy hours.

It is not a bad thing. That the romantic landscape of my memory will be effaced. But then, so too will be the landscape of my youth. The happy days of growing up. One by one, the familiar contours that I hold dear will be gone. Soon, some day, this will become a strange new world with new landmarks. Maybe then, this land will release my heart from its vise grip.