By JP
Malig
SOLITUDE is an iced
cappucino nursed alone on a Sunday afternoon. An afternoon spent a thousand
miles away from home. Sitting alone on a rain-drenched table along Singapore's
Boat Quay district.
I see a couple of Caucasians with their Nikons.
Most probably Australian nationals on a sight-seeing trip. I've been told that
the city-state has become a mecca for tourism, with its fast-paced lifestyle.
Singapore is where the East meets the West, with a dash of urban petit bourgeois
flair.
"Would you like another one?" asked one of the
cafe's waiters. He looked hardly out of his teens, probably fresh out of the
Army.
At five bucks a hit, it was worth it. Besides, it
is my last day here before flying back to Manila tomorrow. I guess I could
splurge on caffeine.
"A tall iced cap, lah." Just a couple of weeks in
Singapore and I felt like a local already.
Feeling a bit light-headed, I took a short stroll
down the wharf's brick-layed pavement, after getting my cap. I wanted to lose
myself in the crowd. Flee the silence. Hush away the
loneliness.
I remembered a Zen mondo, a parable passed on to
me by my sensei.
A Buddhist monk, who had been studying the art of
Zen, in futility for some 20 years, finally approached his old teacher one day
and asked, "What is Zen?"
Thereupon the old monk answered, " I am sitting
here, on top of this rock. That is Zen."
And I found myself walking alone. Along
Singapore's rain-drenched Boat Quay district. With a cup of coffee. A thousand
miles away from home.
Satori.
2 January
1998