Fiction

Let's Give It Up for Gimme Lao!

There were three things Gimme Lao did not know about himself.

The first occurred at his point of birth. The second happened way before he was born. And the third repeated itself many times over his life. Strictly speaking, the third was not about him. It was about the pivotal impact he had on other people, which he never found out about.

Take, for example, Yik Fan. Gimme Lao and Yik Fan went to the same primary school. Being two years apart, they were not in the same class, nor did they end up in the same extracurricular sports team. As far as he was concerned, Gimme Lao never knew Yik Fan existed.

Yik Fan, on the other hand, would never forget Gimme Lao.

Specifically, Yik Fan would never forget the spectacle of Gimme Lao’s public humiliation on stage during school assembly. Not the fierce sobbing of the subject of ridicule, nor the malicious smirk of the disciplinary master as he made the boy put on a frock and applied cherry-red lipstick on his lips. The entire assembly was collapsing in riotous laughter, and no one noticed that Yik Fan was trembling with fear.

When Yik Fan reached home that afternoon, he quickly retrieved the lipstick he hid in his sock drawer and threw it down the rubbish chute. For the following two Sundays, after his mother left for the market, he refrained from slipping into her high heels and prancing around the house as he usually did. By the time the third Sunday rolled around, the suppressed urge had become an unbearable itch. The boy succumbed. But the thrill of slipping his feet into the familiar comfort of his mother’s high heels was sullied by a new apprehension. He saw his eventual downfall with clarity and certainty. It was only a matter of time before he would be paraded on stage, a subject of ridicule for the entire world’s entertainment.

Yik Fan countered the fear with pain. He brought out his mother’s nail clipper and clipped deep into his toe, tearing off a tender chunk of skin and flesh along with a sliver of toenail. His mother chided him for being careless.

The boy continued to be careless. As a teenager, he was always scraping his heels against the teeth on his bicycle chain-ring. When he was riding his first motorcycle, the exhaust pipe must have seared his thighs a dozen times. After he got married, his wife was shocked at how easily Yik Fan could hurt himself. There were always razor blade cuts on his lips and bruised nails where he had stubbed his toes. She sighed and accepted the fact that her husband was hopelessly clumsy.

Yik Fan accepted the penalty of pain for the right to continue with his secret fetish. After his firstborn arrived, his wife was so preoccupied with the baby she left him very much to himself. That was when Yik Fan became emboldened. He bought a new kimono cardigan, a crêpe gown and a split dance dress in sultry red to expand his repertoire. On Sunday afternoons when his wife brought the baby to the in-laws, Yik Fan decked himself out in elaborate outfits and enacted scenes of fantasy. He was supposedly a damsel in distress chained up in a dungeon on that fateful afternoon when his mother-in-law came in unannounced to retrieve the tin of baby formula. He panicked at the sound of the key at the front door and dropped his key to the handcuffs. The look of horror on his mother-in-law’s face searing into his psyche was many times more painful than the multiple burns from the motorcycle exhaust pipe. After she left, he extricated himself from the bondage and sat in a daze for a full hour before realising that it was all over. The last image he saw before he applied the blade to his wrist was that of Gimme Lao on stage at the school assembly twenty years ago, sobbing fiercely as the crowd roared with laughter.

Gimme Lao did not know that. Neither did the disciplinary master who had humiliated him on stage. Both of them went on living their lives, oblivious to the fact that their actions had planted shame and fear so deep in a little boy’s psyche, it led him to end his own life twenty years later.

The second thing that Gimme Lao did not know about himself happened way before he was born. Both his parents decided it was better that Gimme Lao not know. Grandma Toh, the only other person who knew, was sworn to secrecy.

Grandma Toh was a widow who lived next door to Gimme Lao’s parents in their single-bedroom flat unit. She was entrusted with babysitting duties while Gimme Lao’s parents worked. She understood the gravity of the secret she was supposed to keep and agreed wholeheartedly that Gimme Lao should never be told. But the secret grew like a throbbing tumour in her throat. It was a relief to her when Aunty Seah, who lived two doors away, accidentally scraped her foot against the lid of the secret and proceeded to pry it open with curiosity.

‘Don’t you find it strange that the boy’s grandparents never visit?’ Aunty Seah mentioned casually when she came visiting one afternoon.

Grandma Toh bit her lip as she rocked the baby suckling the milk bottle in her arms. She prayed that Aunty Seah would veer off the topic and not tempt her.

‘When the young couple moved in a year ago, I thought it was nice to have newlyweds join us in the block. The husband was especially amiable. Mild-tempered fellow. Can’t say the same for the wife though. I am pretty sure she’s the one who wears the trousers in the house.’ Aunty Seah continued with the gossip: ‘But what irks me is that the couple is so secretive. No one in the block knows about their past or their background. Seriously, what is the big secret that they cannot share?’

Grandma Toh felt an actual, physical constriction in her throat. It was such a torture to know and be forbidden to tell.

‘And then when the young wife got pregnant, all the neighbours were happy for them. We kept a lookout for the inexperienced couple and gave them all the help they needed. You even volunteered to be her confinement nurse after the baby was born. But don’t you find it weird that the couple receives no visits whatsoever from their parents or their relatives? I mean, how would the couple cope if you had not stepped forward to take over babysitting duties when they went back to work?’

‘Well, I did promise my cousin I would look after the young couple,’ Grandma Toh muttered.

‘How did your cousin come into the picture?’ Aunty Seah asked, confused.

Grandma Toh sighed. It was simply too difficult to hold her tongue. ‘My cousin works as a maid for the Lao family, the one that owns the Three Rifles fashion brand. They have a massive mansion in Grange Road.’

Aunty Seah’s eyes widened. ‘Wait a minute. Are you telling me that Lao Sheng Yang, the father of this baby, who works as an administrative clerk in an insurance company, comes from one of the richest families in town?’

Grandma Toh nodded. It was so satisfying to be in a position to dispense secrets by the spoonful into a willing ear and watch the amazement grow.

‘Was he kicked out of the house and disowned by the family because they were against his marriage?’ Aunty Seah ventured a guess.

Grandma Toh frowned. It was a let-down when the listener was too quick to guess the ending. ‘It is a long and complicated story.’

‘You have to tell me.’

‘You have to keep it a secret.’

Aunty Seah nodded eagerly.

‘My cousin has worked for the Lao family for decades. She practically watched Lao Sheng Yang and his two brothers grow up. She was there too when the boys’ mother succumbed to tuberculosis and became bedridden for many years. That was when Huang Rhoo was brought into the family as a goddaughter to look after the ailing mother.’

Aunty Seah’s eyes widened again. ‘You mean to say Huang Rhoo, the baby’s mother, was Lao Sheng Yang’s godsister? That is kind of scandalous.’

‘There is more to it,’ Grandma Toh continued. ‘Huang Rhoo’s father, who worked for Sheng Yang’s father, was a compulsive gambler. He had to beg Sheng Yang’s father constantly to cover his debts. In a way, he was selling his daughter to the family. Tuberculosis is contagious, and Sheng Yang’s father would rather have someone from outside his family look after his wife.’

‘So that was how the couple met and fell in love,’ Aunty Seah nodded.

‘Both were in their mid-teens then. Huang Rhoo was doing very well in school before she had to quit and take on the nursing role. She begged Sheng Yang to continue tutoring her in the evenings. In fact, my cousin told me that between the two, Huang Rhoo was the smarter one. She could tell because whenever the two played Chinese chess, Huang Rhoo often lost her temper and chided Sheng Yang for making badly calculated moves. It’s a pity she never went back to school. Otherwise she could easily get a better job now, instead of the pharmacy assistant job she currently holds.’

‘Don’t we all know about her temper,’ Aunty Seah raised an eyebrow. ‘Remember the time she kicked up a big fuss with the family living upstairs who hung wet laundry out over hers that dripped on her drying bedsheets? This is one woman with a fierce temper.’

‘Well, not unexpectedly, the young couple developed feelings for one another over time.’ Grandma Toh ignored the rude digression from the story she was telling. ‘When the mother eventually passed away two years ago, they decided to inform the family of their intention to get married. That was when all hell broke loose. My cousin told me that Sheng Yang’s father chased the girl out of the house and gave his son an ultimatum. Either he break off the relationship, or he would be disowned and cut off from the family inheritance. That was how the couple ended up fending for themselves in our neighbourhood. Now you should understand why the two are so secretive about their past. And remember that you gave your promise. Keep this secret to yourself!’

‘Of course I will,’ Aunty Seah said. ‘But what I do not understand is, what is the big deal about the marriage? Granted the girl is poor and her father is a compulsive gambler. But is that reason enough to disown the son?’

Grandma Toh bit her lip hard. She was hoping to get away with sharing only half the secret.

‘Is there more to the story?’ Aunty Seah was as sharp as a brand new pair of scissors.

‘I have told you that Huang Rhoo’s father is a compulsive gambler. Why do you think Sheng Yang’s father keeps him on the payroll and covers his debts?’

‘Why indeed?’

‘Because they are half-brothers. The patriarch of the Lao family has more than one mistress hidden outside. So Sheng Yang’s father has no choice but to keep him and two other half-brothers on the family business payroll.’

Aunty Seah’s eyes widened for the third time. ‘Which makes Lao Sheng Yang and his wife cousins? That is incestuous!’

‘Which is why you must keep this secret to yourself,’ Grandma Toh reminded her in a hushed tone. ‘The baby must not know. Ever.’

Aunty Seah looked at the suckling baby with sympathy. ‘Poor little bastard. He could have inherited such a huge family fortune but for the sins of his parents.’

Grandma Toh slapped Aunty Seah on the thigh and warned, ‘Enough! Don’t make me regret telling you this.’

Aunty Seah did deliver on her promise. Gimme Lao grew up not knowing that he was born rich, yet robbed of his inheritance by true, defiant love.

The first thing that Gimme Lao did not know about himself occurred on the day he was born. That was the day half the population on the island was glued to the television. Not their personal set at home, for most of them could not afford one back in 1965. They were hanging around various community centres, where television sets were mounted on wooden pedestals, from which arced stone benches fanned out. Rumour was abuzz that the prime minister was going to announce a momentous piece of news at any moment.

The other half of the population was engaged in their quotidian affairs: clipping their nails, picking their teeth or scratching that persistent itch in their arse-cracks. Positioned at the outer circle of the rippling shock wave, they received the terrible news an hour or two late. Some of them had the audacity to question the news bearers. Did they hear it right? Did the prime minister really mean something else? But the news bearers were indignant in their own defence. The prime minister choked and shed a tear on national television. There was no doubt about it.

The entire population on the island had been unceremoniously kicked out of their own country. They were no more a part of Malaysia. The Mother had disowned them.

For some strange reason, Gimme Lao the unborn baby must have experienced prenatal cognisance. He refused to be purged from his mother’s womb. For nine whole hours, his mother shrieked and howled, scratched his father till she left claw marks on his arm and at one point even punched the nurse who was screaming at her for making too much noise. Eventually, Gimme Lao had to exit. He emerged looking bewildered, unsure whether the world that awaited him was hostile or benign. But the nurse was mad at the mother and took revenge by giving the baby a merciless pinch on the thigh. That was the moment Gimme Lao recognised hostility and bawled.

Gimme Lao’s father was a soft man who shed tears easily. He whimpered with pain when his wife’s nails dug deep and drew blood on his arm. He snivelled with joy at the sight of his firstborn bawling his tiny lungs out. He would later choke up with emotion when he found out that the island would no longer be flying the Malaysian flag.

In the midst of all the excitement, Gimme Lao’s father did not realise that his was the first baby to be born in independent Singapore.

At that point in time, this significant little detail caught no one’s attention. Gimme Lao’s mother was too exhausted, his father too excited and the doctor who delivered him too caught up with the next three babies arriving on his shift.

Three days had passed before a journalist finally called up the hospital and wanted to know which baby was the first born past midnight on 9 August. The hospital administrator flipped through the nurses’ schedule and summoned the nurse who was on midnight shift. ‘Go check the records on your shift and let me have the name.’

The nurse was annoyed to discover that according to the records, a Chinese baby named Lao Chee Hong was born one minute past midnight on 9 August to a mother named Lao Huang Rhoo. She was pretty certain that this was the woman who had punched her in the face.

Flipping to the next record sheet, the nurse saw that a baby girl was born six minutes past midnight. That was the moment the idea struck her. She extracted a Zebra-brand ballpoint pen from her pocket, tested to make sure the ink matched and carefully added a horizontal stroke to the figure one. Gimme Lao became the second baby to be born, seven minutes past midnight.

It was by this insidious horizontal stroke that Gimme Lao was robbed of his rightful title of the first baby to be born in independent Singapore.

No one ever found out the truth.

* * *

All seven of Mary Lao’s sales agents were familiar with the Subramaniam story. Mary Lao used it to illustrate the third and fourth of her Five Rules of Success.

Gnash your hottest chilli. The one that brings tears to your eyes and triggers a coughing fit so severe your windpipe feels like bursting. For, once you learn to handle the hottest chilli, you can feast on dishes that are out of reach to those who cannot handle their chilli.

That was the third rule.

Had Mary Lao assumed the Subramaniams could not possibly afford to buy insurance and chosen not to approach them, she would not have been able to close four cases in one go. In fact, Mr Subramaniam subsequently referred two of his fellow prison wardens, to whom Mary Lao sold three more policies.

Thus the fourth rule: do not judge a covered dish.

After the tearful introduction to the Subramaniam brand of spicy curry, both Mary Lao and Gimme became enamoured with Indian spices and dishes. Every other week, Mary Lao and Sabitha’s mother would bring one another dishes to sample. Gimme Lao became fast friends with Omala in school too. During lunch break at the canteen, Omala would slip Gimme Lao a piece of dharwad pedha from her lunch box, and Gimme would share his ang ku kueh. When they moved on to year three, both children enrolled in the school band and became recorder buddies. While waiting for the school bus home, the pair would whip out their hard plastic recorders and practise their band pieces together. The girls in their respective classes mocked them by calling them a kopi susu couple, which directly translated to ‘black coffee with white milk’. Peeved, Gimme Lao and Omala simply launched their counter-offensive and called the girls various demeaning nicknames.

Although the two often joined each other for lunch breaks, Gimme Lao almost never got to see Omala during the morning tea break. That was when Omala retreated to the secluded corner of the garden behind the janitor’s storeroom to play zero point. Gimme Lao played various games with the boys. There was hantam bola, police and thief and the ever-popular hopscotch. But none of the boys played zero point. It was a girl’s game; one that Gimme Lao secretly wished to play.

Zero point was a game played using a rope made of intertwined rubber bands. Two girls, acting as height markers, held one end each and stretched the rope taut at ankle level. The rest of the girls took turns to straddle the horizontal rope and perform a set of skipping manoeuvres with incremental complexity using their legs to draw patterns out of the rope. Once everyone had had a go, the rope was brought up to knee level, and the game replayed. By the time the rope reached waist level, most of the weaker players would have been eliminated. The last girl standing won the game.

For weeks Gimme Lao hid himself behind the janitor’s storeroom to watch and study the game. Omala was quick on her feet but too short to tackle the rope at chest level. Two of the best players were in year five, tall, rangy girls who dominated the game. Of the two, the one with a mole on her chin was a harrier. She ordered the other girls around, decided the queuing sequence and determined forfeits and penalties. Her name was Gan Ah Sai, but the girls called her Garnasai, or ‘like shit’ in Hokkien, behind her back. The other girl, Kai Li, was Garnasai’s loyal sidekick. The two had the last say when it came to the game of zero point.

Eventually, Gimme Lao could not bear it any longer. He stepped up to the two of them and announced that he wanted to play too. Garnasai gave him a dismissive glance and shook her head. Kai Li added, ‘Zero point is for girls only. No boys allowed.’

‘But I want to play,’ Gimme Lao persisted.

‘You can play if you are a girl. Are you a girl?’ Kai Li teased. Some of the other girls started giggling.

Gimme Lao kept quiet but would not leave. He stood to one side and watched as Garnasai executed a flawless pattern with the rubber band rope held at chest level. When she finished, Gimme Lao announced stubbornly, ‘I can do that too.’

Garnasai glared at him and snorted. Omala decided to put in a good word for her buddy, ‘Let him play. He can take my turn and I will just watch.’ Kai Li objected, ‘No, he cannot take your place. Only girls can play this game.’ Omala threw up her hands and challenged the other girl, ‘But why?’

Before Kai Li could answer, Gimme Lao remarked coldly, ‘Because they are afraid I will beat all of them.’

For a while, a frozen silence descended on the group. Garnasai glared at Gimme Lao, who stood a full head shorter than her. When Gimme Lao returned her glare and did not flinch, Garnasai decided to issue him a challenge. ‘You can be the first boy to play zero point if you can beat me. Until then, you will play as a girl. Omala can lend you her frock.’

All the girls broke out into paroxysms of laughter. Even Omala laughed, until she suddenly remembered Gimme Lao was her buddy and quickly hid her grin behind a cupped palm. Gimme Lao himself frowned, silently contemplating the challenge. When he eventually made up his mind and nodded his agreement, all the girls gaped in astonishment. Even Garnasai found it hard to believe Gimme Lao had actually accepted her challenge.

‘Quick, let him have your frock, Omala!’ Kai Li urged gleefully. Omala looked doubtful, but Gimme Lao nodded to reassure her. All the girls wore the same white shirt and blue shorts the boys wore, but had an additional pleated blue frock worn over the first layer. Gimme Lao took Omala’s frock and quietly slipped it over his head. All the girls started to giggle hysterically. Gimme Lao folded his arms, bit his lip and waited patiently till the game resumed. The moves he had observed and studied from afar were not as easily executable as he had imagined. By the time break ended, Gimme Lao had never once managed to move past the waist level. Garnasai snorted at him and pointed her thumb downwards. The other girls scuttled back to their respective classes and eagerly spread the news that Gimme Lao had worn a frock to play zero point.

When Gimme Lao returned the next morning to the secluded garden, there was a handful of boys from the other classes who were gathered there leaning against the wall of the janitor’s storeroom. They alerted one another once Gimme Lao approached and cackled loudly. Gimme Lao felt the deep burn of his own blush. He did not know then, but there was a betting pool among the boys as to whether Gimme Lao would have the guts to put on a frock in their presence.

‘Are you going to join us, Princess Gimme?’ Kai Li teased. The girls giggled and the boys cackled.

Gimme Lao strode over to the girls but shook his head when Omala gestured to ask if he needed her frock. For this morning, he would just observe the game. He was certain the boys would grow impatient and leave soon. But Garnasai understood his strategy and shred it asunder by throwing him an ultimatum. If he did not put on a frock and play zero point right away, he could forget about playing the game ever again.

Gimme Lao bit his lip and thought hard. The boys by the wall started a chorus of wolf whistles. The girls giggled. Omala was about to put in a good word when Gimme Lao suddenly turned to her and held out his hand. The boys erupted into spontaneous cheering as Omala uneasily took off her frock and handed it over.

His face tense but determined, Gimme Lao strode over to the group of boys, glared at them belligerently and quietly slipped on the frock. At first, the boys laughed out loud. Gimme Lao remained silent but took a step closer. Some of the boys became unnerved by the proximity and belligerence of their subject of ridicule, and their laughter quickly dwindled. An awkward silence ensued. The head of the gang finally realised that Gimme Lao had effectively robbed them of their fun and with a scowl, gestured for the rest of the gang to retreat.

The game of zero point was constantly interrupted for the rest of the session. Every time curious onlookers came to gawk or ogle, Gimme Lao would stride up to them and stare them down till the element of fun was completely eroded. In no time, the girls were so frustrated with the interruptions they began to shoo the onlookers away before Gimme Lao had a chance to react.

By the third day, word had got around to the teachers. The principal, together with the disciplinary master, decided to investigate the matter. They recruited a mole from among the zero point players and received confirmation before they launched their surprise visit to the secluded garden. All the girls froze and looked worried.

‘Why are you in a frock?’ the disciplinary master asked in a severe tone.

Gimme Lao turned pallid. The disciplinary master had a reputation for ruthlessness when he dealt with recalcitrant students.

‘Boys do not wear frocks,’ the disciplinary master declared. ‘Only an Ah Gua would wear a frock. Do you want to put on lipstick and wear high heels and become an Ah Gua?’

Some of the girls giggled. There was a handful of effeminate boys in school that were badly teased and labelled as Ah Gua. The disciplinary master quickly singled out Omala, who was conspicuously missing her frock.

‘And why did you lend him your frock?’

Omala looked around helplessly. Gimme Lao had his head bowed, while the other girls remained silent and unsupportive. Garnasai glared at her ferociously, daring her to mention her name.

When the disciplinary master realised he wasn’t going to extract any confession from the pair of recalcitrants, he decided to escalate it to the next level. ‘I want both of your mothers to see me tomorrow morning before the assembly.’

On the ride home in the school bus, Omala nudged Gimme Lao and asked if he was going to comply with the instruction. Gimme Lao shook his head. It was embarrassing enough to be called an Ah Gua by the disciplinary master in front of a group of girls. He did not want his mother to hear that too. Omala thought about it and decided she would meet the disciplinary master’s injunction midway. She would bring her cousin Sabitha, but keep her mother out of it.

Omala’s strategy did not work. When the disciplinary master saw Sabitha, he simply waved her away. ‘I asked to see your mother. Not your sister, not your cousin. Which part of my instruction was unclear?’

At the assembly that followed, the disciplinary master took to the stage and summoned the pair of misfits. To Gimme Lao’s horror, he made Omala remove her frock and hand it over. ‘Since you obviously like it, you will wear it in front of the whole school.’

The giggles and cackles in the assembly rippled from the front row backwards as those behind stood on toes or leaned sideways to catch a glimpse of the spectacle. Riotous laughter erupted when the disciplinary master produced half a dozen clothes pegs and proceeded to pinch small tufts of Gimme Lao’s hair upright. By the time he whipped out a lipstick and drew on Gimme Lao’s lips, the assembly grid had collapsed. All those behind were pushing their way forward to get a better glimpse. Some of the teachers laughed too, although there were a few who looked perturbed.

The disciplinary master allowed the students to have their fill of laughter before ordering them back into their assembly grid. Pointing his finger at Gimme Lao, who was by then sobbing with acute humiliation, he delivered his message through a loudspeaker, ‘This is how an Ah Gua looks like. If you are a boy, dress like a boy. Boys do not wear skirts, or frocks, or gowns or dresses. Only if you want to be an Ah Gua, then you dress like Gimme Lao. Do you want to be an Ah Gua? Do you?’

The disciplinary master kept pressing until the entire assembly gave him a resounding ‘No’. He then turned to Gimme Lao and proclaimed, ‘Let this be a lesson to you, Gimme Lao. There are boundaries you do not cross. You are born a boy. You will grow up a man. One day in the future, you will recall this day of humiliation and thank me for stopping you in time before you turn into a wayward Ah Gua.’

Gimme Lao was weeping inconsolably when the disciplinary master had a teacher help remove his frock and lead him to the toilet to wash up. For the rest of the day, he hid his head in his folded arms on his desk and sniffled intermittently. His class teachers let him be. On the school bus going home, Omala sat next to him and ferociously stared down anyone who dared hurl a snigger at her buddy. Gimme Lao was too distraught to put up any form of defence himself.

By the time the bus deposited them below their block, Gimme Lao and Omala had come to an agreement. This episode of humiliation would be kept a secret from their families. The two sealed their agreement with a tug on their little fingers, not knowing that the bird was already out of the cage. Unbeknown to them, Sabitha had stayed back and witnessed their humiliation from the far end of the assembly field. Both the Subramaniams and the Laos soon learnt all about it.

Over dinner, Gimme Lao was grilled by his parents. Both Mary Lao and her husband wanted to know the details. Strangely though, the two interrogators had entirely different focuses. His father wanted to know why on earth he put on a frock, while his mother wanted to know exactly how the disciplinary master had punished him in the assembly. As the dinner came to an end, the two interrogators arrived at vastly different conclusions. Gimme Lao’s father concluded that Gimme Lao had it coming and hoped that the public humiliation would dissuade him from ever crossing the boundary again. Mary Lao however stared at her husband in disgust.

‘Have you not been listening to our boy?’ she gasped. ‘He had been issued a challenge, and he took it up. That was why he put on a frock!’

‘And you think that makes it right?’ her husband retorted, incredulous.

‘I am saying he had a reason.’

‘He has to learn to do the right thing.’

‘If we all had to do the right thing, the two of us wouldn’t be married in the first place, would we?’ Mary Lao snapped and almost immediately regretted it. They both blushed deeply and stole a furtive glance at Gimme Lao. The boy did not appear to have caught what she said. Mary Lao heaved a sigh of relief and muttered to herself, ‘I need to speak to the disciplinary master.’

‘About what?’ her husband asked, alarmed.

‘About calling our boy an Ah Gua!’

The next day, Mary Lao timed herself to arrive just as the school bell rang. She collected Gimme Lao and marched him to the principal’s office. Gimme Lao felt a heady mix of apprehension and excitement. He knew his mother was fearless and felt a secret pride that she was pitting herself against the principal for his sake.

The principal had to summon the disciplinary master upon Mary Lao’s request. Once he arrived, Mary Lao asked him point blank if he had called her son an Ah Gua in front of the entire student body. The disciplinary master sniggered and replied derisively, ‘Your boy was wearing a frock. What else do you expect me to call him? A good example?’

Mary Lao reached into her tote bag, extracted two library books and slammed them onto the table. She flipped through the first volume until she came to a chapter on the attire worn by ancient Chinese emperors. Tapping her knuckles on the page, Mary Lao glared at the disciplinary master and challenged, ‘From Tang dynasty to Ming dynasty to Qing dynasty, tell me what the emperors are wearing? Are you calling them Ah Gua? Is that what you are teaching the students in class?’

The disciplinary master frowned at Mary Lao’s belligerence. Before he could reply, Mary Lao flipped through the second volume until she came to a chapter featuring Elizabethan attire for men and asked again, ‘Are you telling me these men are Western Ah Gua? All of them?’

The principal saw that the disciplinary master was flushed with anger and decided to step in quickly. ‘Mrs Lao, perhaps we shouldn’t have used the term Ah Gua on your boy. For that I apologise. But we do have rules in school. Boys are simply not allowed to wear frocks.’

‘Show me then.’

‘Sorry?’ The principal looked confused.

‘Show me where it is stated that boys are not allowed to wear frocks in school,’ Mary Lao requested stubbornly.

The principal had to hide his look of agitation as he turned to reach for the volume of school rules and regulations. His agitation quickly turned into embarrassment as he realised there was no statement in the volume that spelled it out. It was simply understood as an unwritten rule.

‘So you are telling me my boy was punished for breaching a rule that does not exist in your school rules and regulations,’ Mary Lao stated coldly. The principal and the disciplinary master exchanged looks of silent fury. They knew they were right, but could not prove it.

Mary Lao glared at them a little longer before she swept the two library books back into her tote bag. Turning to Gimme Lao, she spoke in a clear voice so the two could hear her. ‘What did the disciplinary master tell you again? That there are boundaries you do not cross? Remember this. People who follow rules blindly are people who are too lazy to use their brains. You have your own brain. Use it. Question the rules. Question the boundaries.’ With that, Mary Lao stood up and left the office with her boy.

The same night, Mary Lao’s husband blew his top. He was aghast at the bad example his wife had set for their child. What was she thinking? How could she possibly teach the child to disrespect school authority? When his tirade gained momentum, Mary Lao sent Gimme Lao next door to play at Grandma Toh’s place. But the walls were thin, and Gimme Lao did not miss a word of his parents’ thunderous argument.

When Harrison the sales manager drove by to pick Mary Lao and her husband up for work the next morning, he could sense the palpable frost between husband and wife. Unwittingly, he enquired and was instantly ensnared and pressed for an opinion.

‘If your boy crossed the line, I guess we should trust the school authorities to discipline him.’ Harrison cleared his throat uneasily. ‘The principal can’t possibly have all the boys running around in frocks in school, right?’

‘It was not stated in the school rules and regulations,’ Mary Lao insisted icily.

‘Some boundaries are drawn with invisible ink, but respected nonetheless.’ Harrison attempted to make his case. ‘Take, for example, insurance sales. As a man, I can walk into the red light district at Geylang to make cold calls and suffer no consequence to my safety or reputation. As a woman, you can’t do the same. There is a boundary. It may not be spelled out in our company rules and regulations, but we all know it exists, and we all respect it.’

Mary Lao sealed her lips in defiance and thought hard. Despite the logic in Harrison’s analogy, she was not convinced. But Mary Lao was not one who was adamant about winning an argument. She would rather prove her point. And the name that sprang to her mind was Black Cougar.