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i received an e-mail from row's mum and it somehow just made me wan to share it here.. it's kinda long. so those who are really bored can be just entertained here.. lols.. here goes..


In the story lies an important message to us...of what our lives have become and whether we are leading a truly happy and fulfilling one.

An unexpected piece of work from young 15 year old girl, who seems to know much more than us.

In the annual Commonwealth Essay Competition, Amanda Chong of Raffles Girls' School (Secondary) chose to compete in the older category and won with a piece on the restlessness of modern life.

Her short story, titled What The Modern Woman Wants, focused on the conflict in values between an old lady and her independent-minded daughter.

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What the Modern Woman Wants By Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen


The old woman sat in the backseat of the magenta convertible as it
careened down the highway, clutching tightly to the plastic bag on her
lap, afraid it may be kidnapped by the wind. She was not used to such
speed, with trembling hands she pulled the seatbelt tighter but was
careful not to touch the patent leather seats with her callused fingers,
her daughter had warned her not to dirty it, 'Fingerprints show very
clearly on white, Ma.'

Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on her sleek silver mobile
phone using big words the old woman could barely understand. 'Finance'
'Liquidation' 'Assets' 'Investments'... Her voice was crisp and important
and had an unfamiliar lilt to it. Her Bee Choo sounded like one of those
foreign girls on television. She was speaking in an American accent.

The old lady clucked her tongue in disapproval.

'I absolutely cannot have this. We have to sell!' Her daughter exclaimed
agitatedly as she stepped on the accelerator; her perfectly manicu red
fingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in irritation.

'I can't DEAL with this anymore!' she yelled as she clicked the phone shut.

and hurled it angrily toward the backseat.

The mobile phone hit the old woman on the forehead and nestled
soundlessly
into her lap. She calmly picked it up and handed it to her daughter.

'Sorry, Ma,' she said, losing the American pretence and switching to
Mandarin. 'I have a big client in America. There have been a lot of
problems.'

The old lady nodded knowingly. Her daughter was big and important.

Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view window, wondering what
she was thinking. Her mother's wrinkled countenance always carried the
same cryptic look.

The phone began to ring again, an artificially cheerful digital tune,
which broke the awkward sil ence.

'Hello, Beatrice! Yes, this is Elaine.' Elaine. The old woman cringed. I
didn't name her Elaine. She remembered her daughter telling her, how an
English name was very important for 'networking', Chinese ones being
easily forgotten.

'Oh no, I can't see you for lunch today. I have to take the ancient relic
to the temple for her weird daily prayer ritual.'

Ancient Relic. The old woman understood perfectly it was referring to
her.
Her daughter always assumed that her mother's silence meant she did not
comprehend.

'Yes, I know! My car seats will be reeking of joss sticks!'

The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her hands gripping her plastic bag
in defence.

The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard. It looked almost
garish
next to the dull sheen of the ageing temple's roof. T he old woman got
out
of the back seat, and made her unhurried way to the main hall.

Her daughter stepped out of the car in her business suit and stilettos
and
reapplied her lipstick as she made her brisk way to her mother's side.

'Ma, I'll wait outside. I have an important phone call to make,' she
said,
not bothering to hide her disgust at the pungent fumes of incense.

The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a joss stick, she knelt
down solemnly and whispered her now familiar daily prayer to the Gods.

Thank you God of the Sky, you have given my daughter luck all these
years. Everything I prayed for, you have given her. She has everything a

young woman in this world could possibly want. She has a big house with a
swimming pool, a maid to help her, as she is too clumsy to sew or cook.

Her love life has been blessed; she is engaged to a rich and handsome
angmoh man. Her company is now the top financial firm and even men listen
to what she says. She lives the perfect life. You have given her
everything except happiness. I ask that the gods be merciful to her even
if she has lost her roots while reaping the harvest of success.

What you see is not true, she is a filial daughter to me. She gives me a
room in her big house and provides well for me. She is rude to me only
because I affect her happiness. A young woman does not want to be
hindered
by her old mother. It is my fault.

The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in her eyes. Finally,
with her head bowed in reverence she planted the half-burnt joss stick
into an urn of smouldering ashes.

She bowed once more.

The old woman had been praying for her d aughter for thirty-two
years. When her stomach was round like a melon, she came to the temple
and prayed that it was a son.

Then the time was ripe and the baby slipped out of her womb, bawling and
adorable with fat thighs and pink cheeks, but unmistakably, a girl. Her
husband had kicked and punched her for producing a useless baby who could
not work or carry the family name.

Still, the woman returned to the temple with her new-born girl tied to
her
waist in a sarong and prayed that her daughter would grow up and have
everything she ever wanted. Her husband left her and she prayed that her
daughter would never have to depend on a man.

She prayed every day that her daughter would be a great woman, the woman
that she, meek and uneducated, could never become. A woman with nengkan;
the ability to do anything she set her mind to. A woman who commanded

respect in the hearts of men. When she opened her mouth to speak,
precious
pearls would fall out and men would listen.

She will not be like me, the woman prayed as she watched her daughter
grow
up and drift away from her, speaking a language she scarcely understood.
She watched her daughter transform from a quiet girl, to one who openly
defied her, calling her laotu; old-fashioned. She wanted her mother to be
'modern', a word so new there was no Chinese word for it.

Now her daughter was too clever for her and the old woman wondered why
she
had prayed like that. The gods had been faithful to her persistent
prayer,
but the weal th and success that poured forth so richly had buried the
girl's roots and now she stood, faceless, with no identity, bound to the
soil of her ancestors by only a string of origami banknotes.

Her daughter had forgotten her mother's values. Her wants were so
ephemeral; that of a modern woman. Power, Wealth, access to the best
fashion boutiques, and yet her daughter had not found true happiness. The
old woman knew that you could find happiness with much less. When her
daughter left the earth everything she had would count for nothing.
People
would look to her legacy and say that she was a great woman, but she
would
be forgotten once the wind blows over, like the ashes of burnt paper
convertibles and mansions.

The old woman wished she could go back and erase all her big hopes and
prayers for her daughter; now she had only one want: That her d aughter
be
happy. She looked out of the temple gate. She saw her daughter speaking
on
the phone, her brow furrowed with anger and worry. Being at the top is
not
good, the woman thought, there is only one way to go from there - down.

The old woman carefully unfolded the plastic bag and spread out a packet
of beehoon in front of the altar.

Her daughter often mocked her for worshipping porcelain Gods. How could
she pray to them so faithfully and expect pieces of ceramic to fly to her
aid? But her daughter had her own gods too, idols of wealth, success and
power that she was enslaved to and worshipped every day of her life.

Every day was a quest for the idols, and the idols she worshipped counted
for nothing in eternity. All the wants her daughter had would slowly suck
the life out of her and leave her, an empty soulless shell at the altar.

The old lady watched her joss tick. The dull heat had left a teetering
grey stem that was on the danger of collapsing.

Modern woman nowadays, the old lady sighed in resignation, as she bowed
to
the east one final time to end her ritual. Modern woman nowadays want so
much that they lose their souls and wonder why they cannot find it.

Her joss stick disintegrated into a soft grey powder.

She met her daughter outside the temple, the same look of worry and
frustration was etched on her daughter's face. An empty expression, as if
she was ploughing through the soil of her wants looking for the one
thing that would sow the seeds of happiness.

They climbed into the convertible in silence and her daughter drove along
the highway, this time not as fast as she had done before.

'Ma,' Bee Choo finally said. 'I don't know how to put this. Mark and I
have been talking about it and we plan to move out of the big house. The
property market is good now, and we managed to get a buyer willing to pay
seven million for it. We decided we'd prefer a cosier penthouse apartment
instead. We found a perfect one in Orchard Road. Once we move in to our
apartment we plan to get rid of the maid, so we can have more space to
ourselves...'

The old woman nodded knowingly.

Bee Choo swallowed hard. 'We'd get someone to come in to do the housework
and we can eat out-but once the maid is gone, there won't be anyone to
look after you. You will be awfully lonely at home and, besides that, the
apartment is rather small. There won't be space. We thought about it for
along time, and we decided the best thing for you is if you moved to a
Home. There's one near Hougang-it's a Christian home, a very nice one.'

The old woman did not raise an eyebrow. 'I've been there, the matron is
willing to take you in. It's beautiful with gardens and lots of old
people
to keep you company! I hardly have time for you, you'd be happier there.'

'You'd be happier there, really.' Her daughter repeated as if to affirm
herself.

This time the old woman had no plastic bag of food offerings to cling
tightly to; she bit her lip and fastened her seat belt, as if it would
protect her from a daughter who did not want her anymore. She sunk deep
into the leather seat, letting her shoulders s ag, and her fingers trace
the white seat.

'Ma?' her daughter asked, searching the rear view window for her mother.
'Is everything okay?'

What had to be done, had to be done. 'Yes,' she said firmly, louder than
she intended, 'if it will make you happy,' she added more quietly.

'It's for you, Ma! You'll be happier there. You can move there tomorrow,
I already got the maid to pack your things.' Elaine said triumphantly,
mentally ticking yet another item off her agenda.

'I knew everything would be fine.'

Elaine smiled widely; she felt liberated. Perhaps getting rid of her
mother would make her happier. She had thought about it. It seemed the
only hindrance in her pursuit of happiness. She was happy now. She had
everything a modern woman ever wanted; Money, Status, Career, Love, Power
and now, Free dom, without her mother and her old-fashioned ways to weigh
her down...

Yes, she was free. Her phone buzzed urgently, she picked it up and read
the message, still beaming from ear to ear. 'Stocks 10% increase!'

Yes, things were definitely beginning to look up for her...

And while searching for the meaning of life in the luminance of her hand
phone screen, the old woman in the backseat became invisible, and she did
not see the tears.