When you have relatives who live all over Singapore as well as across the causeway, sometimes it may take some years before you get acquainted with new additions to the extended family - or clan, if you like. Meanwhile, those whom you last met - and even then for only a brief moment - are growing up a little too quickly, and when you next see them, you realise to your horror they have morphed into something else you can't quite recognise. All would have grown taller, no doubt; but while some seem to have been underfed, there are those who would do well if they could give more of what they eat to their skinner siblings or cousins.
Altogether there are about seven to eight of them, an irrepressible bunch of kids. The youngest is around 3 or 4 years old while the oldest ought to be no older than 13 years of age. These little nephews and nieces are strangers to me, much like my family and I are to them. Unlike the rest of the kids who eagerly surround my brother and watch him play his computer games, the youngest boy is surprisingly unaffected by peer influence and the gripping source of attraction that has held the rest spell-bound. He's got a pair of sympathetic but somewhat melancholy eyes, and wears a dazed look that matches his habit of walking around absently - which is why he and not the others caught my attention.
Content to settle in his own little imaginary world - a world in which every one of us creates and immerses ourselves in when we were a kid - his quietness and seeming indifference to people and things around him set him apart from the rest. When i caught him uttering to himself at a little corner of the house, I lowered myself to his midget height and asked softly what his name is, careful not to speak unduly loudly for fear of frightening him to tears. Eyeing me with his charming but forlorn pair of small eyes, and looking placidly calm, he says gently, almost whispering, 'Derrick'. I smiled and he walked away indifferently, returning to his own little cloistered world, as if there had not just been an interruption. I knew only too well that this intruder was nothing and could not ruffle his placidness, for he certainly does not occupy a place in the privileged imaginary world of his.
It does not matter that most kids - like my nephews and nieces - behave shyly when they first arrive at the unfamiliar home of some very distant relative whom their parents have come to visit. Because, they being kids, all sense of unfamiliarity and uneasiness unfailingly disappears when the likes of computer games, toys and sweets are in plenty abundance to occupy their attention. (Kids can behave annoyingly, but there are many charms one can employ to turn them into obedient children.) Many a time though, some of these kids inevitably find themselves suffering the almost customary Auntie assault that all kids somehow would have gone through before: enduring the uncomfortable embrace of a loud-talking Auntie whom they have little affection for. Usually, their parents are either quiet accomplices or guilty partners-in-assault; using a combination of coaxing and threats - the latter more when their child displays stubborn resistance - they make sure their kid obliges the whimsical demands of the relative, who is probably someone of higher seniority, such as an aunt.
Typical profile of the Aunt: A little on the bulky side, with a crop of hair that has visibly been dyed many times over and again; gesticulates incessantly, talks and laughs a few decibels higher than normal, and makes small talk through sometimes unfunny or embrrassing recollections; but most important, displays an almost compulsive urge to grab or cuddle whichever hapless kid she fancies - though usually it's the youngest one (even toddlers are not spared).
Now, the hapless kid who finds himself in the doting embrace of his parents' aunt unfortunately doesn't share the same enthusiasm: he struggles to free himself of the persistent clutches of said Aunt, and with whatever puny strength of his, desperately fends off strong arms and hands that are all over his body, particularly on his cheeks. Meanwhile, he hears his unsympathetic parents authoritatively beseeching him to say some incomprehensible language to address the almost comical Auntie. As soon as he regains his freedom, he learns his lesson and steers clear of the vision and path of the Auntie. But before that, the Auntie-assualt is not over until that devastating, mouthful kiss is firmly planted on his face, to which he either rubs away instantly or seizes the opportunity to break free.
I look at kids and always find myself feeling a sense of joy and quiet happiness. Not only do they remind me of some experiences I've had when I was young, but their sheer presence and actions satisfy my selfish need for amusement as well. A perfect picture of guileless innocence and human charm, they represent the part of life which ironically is appreciated only when it becomes eternally eluded from us. Kids have a lot of fun at their age, unaware of adult problems and troubles in this world, but the fun and enjoyable times that they had is only fully realised when they have grown up - by which time they would already be too old to appreciate and relive the joy that is only bestowed on kids alone.
Perhaps, this is why kids are always so well-loved - not just merely because they are lovable little creatures, but that they are our connection with an innate part of our lives which would later become relegated to the vaguest of our life experiences, memories of which are triggered only when in contact with kids.
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