Delicate affairs

Because like bubbles, they burst.


I still remember so vividly how my mam and I were glued to the telly one fateful Wednesday night three years ago. We had hurried home to catch the wedding of Quan YiFeng and her huasband, and that half-hour episode turned both me and my mam into green-eyed monsters ever so envious of a romantic affair so meticulously planned. A wonderful evening at the dock with magical setting coupled with a few love songs from the Superstars that made most tear was completed with a trip out to sea for wedding photos.

Two years down the road, they divorced each other.

This time round, it is the grand wedding of Christopher Lee and Fann Wong.
This time round, my mam and I weren't glued to the telly.
This time round, we weren't turned into green-eyed monsters, with jaws wide opened.

Because, growing up, you realise that fairytales in which the prince and princess live together happily ever after seldom exist.

And you ask yourself, what's the point of making the wedding such a major event if ultimately things do not work out?

Not that I'm cursing the twain, of course.

But you do realise that relationships are delicate affairs which should be handled with much care and sensitivity. Like bubbles, relationships can burst and be short-lived if not properly dealt with. This applies even more so to romantic relationships which may end very easily due to miscommunication and misunderstandings, or due to the fading of feelings for the other party as some people claim.

Which is why communcation becomes all the more important.

Communication allows us to know one another better, invariantly cutting down on the number of unwanted misunderstandings.
Communication lets us clarify our doubts, correcting our misconception.
Communication helps keep the sparks between lovebirds going.

A couple broke up because of a misunderstanding over a photo in which the girl never bothered to clarify. When they eventually got back together, there was very little communication, resulting in them breaking up. Again. This time, for good.

Someone once told me that in a relationship, haptics - a science to do with the sense of touch - is very important. It need not be something too exaggerated, like hugging so tightly in the middle of a busy shopping mall you seem to be stuck to each other with a super glue , nor need it be something like kissing so vigoriously like there's no tomorrow. It just takes a simple interlocking of the hands to make the other party feel important to you.

Then there is also the kinesics and paralinguistics and a whole load of other nonverbal and verbal communication that are just so important in maintaining relationships. Yet sometimes, it is also communication that leads some relationships to the point of no repair.

Paradoxical, isn't it?

The Cove

It seems like any other cove. The waves are calm, there is not much movement within the waters. Yet every September, something happens. And that very place, becomes "the dolphins' worst nightmare".

Ric O'Barry, the dolphin trainer who rose to fame after the TV series, Flipper, claimed that he feels somewhat responsible, because it was the TV series that "created this worldwide million-dollar industry". Together with his elite team of activists, filmmakers and freedivers, Ric uncovers the "shocking instance of animal abuse".

Their first but failed attempt at trying to film the fishermen's darkest secret saw them getting back to their hotel room, rather dejected, listening to their recording of the dolphins' squeals.

Ric: It's eerie isn't it - the sounds that we're hearing? They're all dead by now and the next day there's a new batch to replace them.
(something along the lines.)

Determined to unravel the truth, the team carried out their second attempt of the espionage, this time in full force. And they succeeded. The well-hidden cameras captured the entire gruesome process of the massacre.

The acoustic animals were all trapped and then brought to the secret cove. Once away from the public eyes, those inhumane fishermen put their spear-like weapons into the waters and began piercing the dolphins simultaneously as if working to some music. Instantaneously the clear blue waters turned into a bloody mess and the pained squeals of the hundreds of poor dolphins became a blur. You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you see the dolphins writhe in agony and they struggle for every bit of breath and they never come up from the bloody waters again.

Each year, an estimated 23,000 dolphins and porpoises are killed in Japan for "human consumption". This is only because these poor animals are not protected by the International Whaling Commission. But dolphins are but smaller versions of whales aren't they? In addition, most city dwellers who were showed the gory clips of the slaughter expressed signs of disgust and said that they had no idea dolphin meat was for sale. If such is the case, may I ask, where do all the approximately 23,000 dead dolphins go to?

The fishermen claimed that dolphin slaughter is a culture in their country. If so, why do the city dwellers not know about this long-standing tradition? They said that "if the world finds out what's going on here, they'd be shot down". Is this not an indication of their own fabrication? Furthermore, they are afraid of cameras. I believe if dolphin slaughter were a tradition in their country the fishermen should be proud of it, and would not hesitate to be filmed. However, they were strongly against those who brought cameras with them. And to get them out of the way, those barbarians tried to taunt the people into hitting them by abusing the dolphins in front of the activists' very own eyes, just so they would be arrested. Do the above-stated constitute authenticity in the brutes' so-called culture at all?

Almost immediately after the documentary ended, my mam turned to look at me, and commented that it was just like World War II, when the Japanese mass-killed the Prisoners of War and civilians - gunshots punctuated the moments of distress; shrieks of anguish rang in the ears; bloody bodies piled atop each other.

And the mam added, it's also the Japanese.

She said that there's a reason why the older generation of the Chinese is still so repulsive against them. I think I understand it now. They say to forgive and forget, but how do you really forget something which once happened on you, to you, when it had detrimental effects not only on the body but the mind? "Wounds heal, but the scars will always remain." This slogan belongs to my girlfriend.

Maybe, it's true.

That said, I am fully aware that the bulk of the Japanese aren't involved in such beastly acts and they do not deserve to be regarded as the Unciviliseds.

Sorry if I'd sounded offensive; I love dolphins.

Perception

During the last lesson, we talked about perception, the process by which we make sense of the world around us. And the instructor showed us a picture of a dyad with the esplanade as the backdrop. She asked for what we saw.

Almost immediately, seemingly without thinking, some said they were a couple, some, friends. Others said they were siblings or cousins, whereby one of them in particular was pointed out as a male and older than the famale. After a little more than five minutes, the instructor said, "you only see what you want to see."

The discussion carried on, the examination of the photo this time more carefully after the remark. I still could not figure out what other relationships there could be between two people of opposing genders. A little later, Ms Hui finally announced that the male we'd been discussing about all along, was actually a female, and younger than the other.

Naturally, there were oohs and ahhs. I was dumbfounded. I'd identified the person as a male at first glance. She had short hair, and in many ways, resembled a male. It never occurred to me to look deeper and beyond.

In retrospect, that we only see what we want to see certainly holds. And more often that not, we fail to see beyond the surface.

They say seeing is believing, but sometimes, looks may be deceiving.

One classic example would be Susan Boyle, a participant of Britain's Got Talent. The moment the frumpy woman stepped on stage, she was written off by almost everybody. When she said that she was 47, judge Simon Cowell raised his eyebrows. Yet she was undaunted and stated matter-of-factly while doing a little twirl that "that's just one side of me". Later, to Simon's question of her dream, she replied that she wants to be a professional singer like Elaine Paige. It was at this point that the crowd actually rolled their eyes and laughed at her. Even judge Amanda acknowledged that everybody was against her, and that they "were all being very cynical".

However the instant the same woman started the song, she wow-ed the crowd so much so that within barely 30 seconds, there was a standing ovation. It was indeed, a serenade in melting tones. And the initially sceptical Simon appeared to be astonished by the performance he called extraordinary.

Then we come to this realisation that such is the perception of most people - that a person so frumpy and almost old would not be able to sing, not to say sing as well as Elaine Paige, that an unfashionable person may not have any talents.

Whatever happened to "never judge a book by its cover"?

Today, I watched with the heart palpitating as a drama of some sort unfolded before my very eyes. As the students were dismissed from tuition, their excited chatters turned the initially quiet centre into a marketplace. Then it was quietness again once they hurried off home. And then I would go back to the one or two students I would keep behind for not being able to complete their homework. Such is the routine every Saturday evening.

Yet this fateful day, something else happened. Something that neither the receptionist nor I had ever encountered.

Instead of quietness, there was noise. A man in particular was raising his voice at another lady, both of whom had crying boys beside them. Apparently, their children almost got into a fight and their teacher could not manage them. Without even clarifying matters, the Sinaporean father demanded a reason for the Chinese boy's hitting his son. Later, things got out of control when, in a bid to protect her son, the Chinese mother retaliated verbally. This verbal exchange quickly escalated into a heated argument.

The unreasonable dad actually had the cheek to tell the Chinese mother to go back to China, and not "come and steal our ricebowls" in Mandarin. Now, who wouldn't be angered by such nasty remarks? 'Twas when the father finally calmed down to have the sense to verify matters when he found out that the boy, in actual fact, never laid a finger on his son at all.

It turned out that the teacher did not even validate the accusation that the boy was cheating, when he claimed that he was only using the electronic dictionary as a translator.

Then it all began to dawn on me how biased against certain groups of people some of us can be. In all honesty, after hearing stories of scandalous affairs and all, my view of the Chinese women has slanted. And I have to admit that I, too, have stereotyped them, viewing them through my own pair of tinted glasses.

But to come to think of it now, how would I feel if others were to view myself this way?

Because somewhere deep down, I know that no matter how many black sheep there are, there will still be a handful of good ones. And I definitely would not want others to view me any differently just because of those ne'er-do-wells. Perhaps this episode acts as a reminder, at least for me, to constantly put myself into another's shoes, so as not to say or do things which may hurt the person's feelings.

Because, words can kill.