[LOVELY LADIES OF PUNJAB]

My Punjabi friend, Gerry Singh, is in his early 50s and his ardent quest is to marry once more a Punjabi lady. I have been telling him that I can easily get a Filipina as his bride. But, Gerry is insistent, he wants a Punjabi lady.

Punjabi culture is one of the oldest and richest cultures in the history of the world, and also one which is throbbing with life. Indeed, the Indian state of Punjab exhibits a unique cultural landscape, which thrives in both traditional values and utilitarian aspects.

There is artistry in every aspect of life in Punjab and an aura of embellishment dominates the place. The opulent culture of this northwestern state of India is apparent in its metal work, embroidery, wall paintings, jewelry, mud wall paintings, architecture, folk songs and dances.

The culture of the state is wide in scope, encompassing a rich history and a pulsating social life. The century-old Punjab culture is renowned for its tolerance, progressiveness and logical approach to life as well.

I actually learned that in Punjab the farmers rarely use chemicals as fertilizers. They still rely on carabao dung, which is sun-dried by the bulk and used as fertilizers for growing their various crops.

What struck me also as somewhat bizarre is the other holy destination where we also made some offering on the day after our Amritsar trip. Gerry bought one (1) big case of whiskey and a pail of cow’s milk. We are supposed to have it offered to some kind of an Indian saint in a Bhairav temple. The bottles of whiskey are offered and then a priest would utter some kind of incantation over the offering and the whiskey will thereafter be distributed to those devotees who line up for some kind of rationing of the offered liquor. There is also a cement trough within the temple’s premises where the pail of cow’s milk is poured out empty as it will be licked and drunk by dogs who loiter within the premises. I was told that the saint sort of having kept a dog as his pet too. So, there is an offering for the master as well offering for the saint’s pet dog.

In the early morning following our trip to the Bhairav temple, an elder actually the mother of Gerry’s friend nominated THREE (3) ladies as Gerry’s supposed-to-be bride. But the ladies did not pass the test, as they were all 18 years of age and Gerry wants a lady who is older.

With this result, the old matchmakers in the village entered into the scene, actually two (2) matriarchs in the village were known as the village’s matchmakers. Thus, from 9 AM to 8 PM, we
were literally going from one house to another meeting the ladies who were being recommended by the matchmakers. And the places of the would-be-brides are located too far between from each other.

 

First stop was at the house of Jagdeep, a widow who is 35 years old. Jagdeep lost her husband after the husband died of heart attack FOUR (4) years ago. The couple had THREE (3) children, ONE (1) girl and TWO (2) boys. Jagdeep is engaged in a milk-producing business as she owns TWO (2) female cows and TWO (2) female water buffaloes. To me, Jagdeep was already A-OKEY as Gerry’s bride as she was pretty and even looks like an actress.

The problem is that Gerry is somewhat choosy. Gerry told me that he does not want a widower and that Jagdeep has THREE (3) children already. I actually told Gerry that he is not young anymore, and that it is not right for him to be so choosy. What intrigued me all the more was the respect accorded by Jagdeep’s children to me and to Gerry. What they did surprised me. I learned thereafter that the way the children in India show respect to the elders is some kind of a curtsy, a formal way of greeting the elders and the elderly.

And this is how it is done: Indian children lie prostrate on the ground before the person to whom they are according the formal greeting of respect such as parents, elders, and teachers by touching their feet. The elder in turn blesses the child by placing his or her hand on or over the child’s head. The act of lying prostrate on the ground is done daily, when a child meet his/her elders and particularly on important occasions like the beginning of a new task, birthdays, festivals etc.

Touching the feet while lying prostrate on the ground is a sign of deep respect for the age, maturity, nobility and divinity that elders personify. It symbolizes recognition of the elders’ selfless love for and the sacrifices that they have done for the children’s welfare. It is a way of humbly acknowledging the greatness of another. This tradition reflects the strong family ties which has been one of India’s enduring strengths.

The next stop was in a house where a corpulent but flabby-type of a Punjabi lady was staying. And the over-protective mother of the lady was so proud telling us all that after her daughter got divorced, she has never been into any kind of relationship. The two (2) Punjabi match makers. after exiting from the scene, who were matron-like in their features were giggling all the way, making fun of the flabby Punjabi lady’s gutsy nerve in presenting herself as a putative bride for Gerry.

Our final stop for the day, actually it was already evening, was the house of a TWENTY-TWO (22) year old lady, and Jeermit Kaur was her name. The lady was pretty too and perhaps Gerry got so quickly enamored by the lady as she has tantalizing eyes. But the father was not there, and reportedly, the father waited since morning for our arrival. Jeermit Kaur’s mother was there but the father was supposed to be the one who will make the final decision. I felt then that it was already a done deal and I said, I was lucky as after Gerry has chosen a bride, we will then go to the Taj Mahal in Agra, as was promised to me by Gerry.

As the elderly matchmakers needed to rest after traveling from place to place the whole day, we decided to call it a day.

Abi jarem once more…

THE LION CITY OF SINGAPORE

In the first quarter of 1983 while attending a seminar-workshop on PLANNING and BUDGETING, a yearly activity of the government office where I was then working; I received news that I will be sent to Singapore. The seminar-workshop I was attending was in relation to a World Bank-financed project dubbed as the Tondo Foreshore and Dagat-Dagatan Development Project (the “Project”) of the National Housing Authority (“NHA”). As the then Asst. General Manager Antonio Fernando (“AGM Fernando”) briefed me, during a break in the seminar, I was told that I have been awarded a Colombo Plan scholarship and that I will receive training at the Housing & Development Board in Singapore.

At that time, Singapore though a pygmy-sized nation was acknowledged as a giant in the field of housing. As I was then the Estates Division Manager of the Project’s Dagat-Dagatan Development, it was the shared perception of the NHA’s top management then that knowledge on housing development from a perceived GIANT in the field would do me good particularly on the aspect of CONSERVANCY. Conservancy in the field of estate management pertains to the program of effectively maintaining the estate in tip-top condition.

The grand plan then by the Marcos government was to do an ON-SITE development in the Tondo Foreshore area which was highly considered as a totally blighted area, degraded by population explosion, and aggravated by the consequent sprouting of slums and that it has emerged as a nightmare in sanitation. At that time, the ON-SITE works was already ongoing in the Tondo Foreshore area as streets were being created out of dimly-lit alleys and catwalks, the shanties being improved through what was called as a HOUSING MATERIALS LOAN Program and communities were being RE-BLOCKED to achieve some semblance of order. I started out as a Research Assistant in 1974, thereafter as Project Officer at the Tondo Foreshore side of the Project and at that time in 1983, I have been promoted to the rank of Division Manager of the Estates Management on the Dagat-Dagatan side of the Project. The Dagat-Dagatan area which is a vast tract measuring about 600 hectares was to serve as the relocation/resettlement area of Tondo Foreshore residents who will be affected by the ON-SITE development in the Tondo Foreshore area which measures about 140 hectares.

Censused residents of Tondo Foreshore, which census was conducted in the early 70s, who actually did not own the land where their houses have been erected are actually called “squatters”. The term “squatters” which was then being used carried a disparaging connotation of a law-breaker and a plague in the metropolis. Eventually, a politically correct term was coined and used instead, they in the Tondo Foreshore area were thereupon called as INFORMAL SETTLERS. What was totally fulfilling was that the Marcos government was set to sell the residential lots to censused residents at ONLY Php 95.00 per square meter and to be amortized through a period of 15 years, to boot.

Going back to my Colombo Plan scholarship….I left for Singapore in the last week of August 1983 via a Singapore Airlines flight. The passengers of that flight were dined and wined by the comely, well-mannered and friendly Singaporean stewardesses. I felt I was on FIRST CLASS because the meal was superb which consisted of prawns and wine was literally overflowing. I learned thereafter that Singapore Airlines was and still is among the BEST managed airlines in the world.

The flight took me about 3 hours and when I arrived at the Changi Airport in Singapore, I was met by a gracious Singaporean lady who works at the Singapore’s Foreign Affairs ministry. It was at the Changi Airport when I learned that the Singaporean lady will fetch not only me, but TWO (2) other Filipinos, a government doctor and an engineer who was also working at the NHA, and finally, a Thai engineer too.
Thus, we boarded a van and traveled from the airport to our destination into the Lion City. I came prepared and I wanted to promote the image of the Filipino as grateful, cordial and friendly people. Thus, when the Singaporean lady brought me to where I will be staying at the topmost floor of a high-rise condominium at the place called OUTRAM Park, and when she was about to leave, I pulled out something from my carry-on bag. It was a Filipino souvenir item, actually native hand-made doilies which I bought at the Quiapo market and which I attempted to hand over to her. The Singaporean lady politely refused my offer despite my persistence by my statement that it was just a token of my gratitude for her having fetched me at the airport. And that actuation on the part of the Singaporean lady gave me an amazing show of selfless and self-abnegating service.

And I met Mr. Low, who will, according to the Singaporean lady who bought us to him, be our foster parent together with Mrs. Low. Mr. Low was a retired police officer receiving some pension while, Mrs. Low who herself was a retiree, was busying herself cooking meals and selling them to neighbors and friends. The Spouses Low have THREE (3) little daughters at that time and they all stayed and slept at the larger master bedroom in the 2-room affair of their condominium unit. We, the FOUR (4) of us, stayed in a relatively smaller room where TWO (2) double-decked beds were stacked up opposite each other. The one and a half meter-sized aisle which leads to the door served as our communal area where we do some exercises to keep us fit and dandy.
Every day, we went to our respective destinations (i.e. the doctor into a government hospital, the engineers at the government utility companies) and I would usually be assigned from place to place particularly housing projects of the Housing and Development Board of Singapore where I will be first given some kind of an orientation lecture, then afterwards, doing some kind of ON-THE-JOB training on HOUSING AND ESTATES MANAGEMENT.

I and Mr. Low became friends and he would usually treat me to a cup of coffee or tea, in a nearby coffee/tea shop. At the coffee/tea shop, Mr. Low would confide to me about his exasperation regarding the other lodgers in their home, particularly the doctor, whom he felt was discourteous to him. Actually, the doctor and Mr. Low would from time to time engage in some kind of a debate about almost all kinds of subject and Mr. Low would be irked with the smart-alecky posture of the doctor.

In my talks and dealings with Mr. Low, what further amazed me was how Singaporeans revered and respect their leader, who was then the charismatic Prime Minister of the Garden State, Mr. Lew Kuan Yew. Mr. Lee even gained the moniker of being the CHIEF GARDENER of Singapore as during Mr. Lee’s tenure he started an honest-to-goodness program of greening the whole of Singapore. I was myself brought once by an HDB functionary to the central plant and trees nursery which distributes plants and tree saplings to the whole of Singapore’s housing projects in this magnificent Lion City. I was really awed, amazed and enchanted by the Lion City (and that was many years ago) and I am sure that today Singapore would look much more astounding, magnificent and awe-inspiring. What I learned most of all was that the Singaporeans were a lot of DISCIPLINED people. And that perhaps, is what the people of the Philippines lack in great measure. Looking back, the call for DISCIPLINE by Pres. Marcos, was a step in the right direction.

Going back to my Singaporean friend….Mr. Low not only became a friend but some kind of a my guardian angel as he gave me moralizing tips on how to find one’s lifetime partner, looking into the internal beauty of a person rather than that of the person’s external gloss.

What further amazed me was Singapore’s cleanliness. And that quality of cleanliness in their streets and other public places was made attainable because, one can see that in every place within the Lion City, a garbage receptacle of whatever shape, size and form is always accessible.

As our stay at Mr. Low’s unit was mainly lodging, a special treat was accorded me when I celebrated my 34th birthday on September 12, 1983. That was when Mrs. Low served us birthday noodles plus, a birthday cake. Ordinarily, we take our meals at the street-side eateries near our place at OUTRAM Park.

And one Singaporean cook-meal vendor, a cheerful fortyish lady would almost always smile and be moved to laughter, every time we would order chicken noodle soup. To keep us easily satiated, we, myself and my co-lodgers at Mr. Low’s place, would continuously request servings of the noodle soup’s broth; and would finish off with the noodles when our stomachs have almost been filled to the brim by the warm and spicy broth.