No really. There is no such thing as the country Singapore. It’s a conspiracy. I mean, what the hell? The fucking dot on the map, indicating the country is bigger than the country itself. It’s entirety is 719.1 km^2.
My family and I went on Holiday there last week. And on the way from the airport to our hotel we were talking to the cab driver. He said that the hotel we planned to stay at was very (he actually said ‘very’) far away from the Singapore city as it was about a 25 to 30 minute drive from there as it was about twenty kilometres away from it. I honestly lost my shit.
It takes me fucking thirty minutes to travel five kilometres in my city. Really.
And, and, and I was in love. That gorgeous city. Ohhh….
Everything worked. I mean everything. The traffic lights, the street lamps, the bus stops, everything. And things were so organised! I had never seen anything like that. I mean, while going down an escalator people would all stand on one side to leave space for anyone in a hurry to rush through. And like, while boarding a bus or a train people would actually wait for them to get out of it and then get in. There was a system. There was organisation. There was discipline.
I was so used to the push and the shove of the Delhi metro, the constant stench of sweat, piss and paan. My senses couldn’t adapt. I didn’t know if I had the aukaat to breath such clean air. In their version of the cattle class (the metro bro), all the passengers of an escalator would stand to one side to allow others who were in a hurry to rush past!!!!
I have never seen anything like that. Ever!
But now I’m back. Here, in India my inbuilt, carefully cultivated sixth sense of knowing when the cow shit will come in my path without even looking down is appreciated. Here, my ability to tell the difference between the smells of the fifty different spicy my father uses for cooking and the smell of my constipated neighbour’s first fart is useful. (No, papa, you didnt put too much garlic)
I truly does love my country.