Literary...

This piece was written by me in my first English writing competition ever. Not exactly my favorite genre, but still...

The trishaw, as its name implies, is a three-wheeled vehicle. The trishaw was a common means of transport back in the olden days in Singapore. The three-wheeled vehicle existed in its earlier form as the rickshaw in Shanghai in 1880 and was manually pulled by a rider in front of a seat attached to two big wheels. The trishaw made its debut in Singapore in the 1940s, and although we do not see many trishaws on the roads now, it remains a strong icon of our rich cultural history.

The trishaw evolved from the Japanese invention, rickshaws. The three-wheeler varied in design with the seat for the passenger sometimes in front, and in other parts of Asia, behind the trishaw rider. But in Singapore, the seat is located at the side of the trishaw rider, which is a bicycle attached to a sidecar. A hood, like those found on the rickshaw, also provides shade for the trishaw passenger. It is much easier to drive and was twice as speedy as rickshaws, and thus soon rendered the rickshaw obsolete. Though a motorised, even faster version soon appeared in Asia, it never really caught on in Singapore, thus the pedalled trishaw survives till today.

I have, in fact, a rather affectionate feeling for the trishaw, due to the fact that I had a very close relationship with it over almost a decade ago, while I was still attending nursery school. I shall now relate that intriguing story to you.

When I just started nursery school, it was not exactly a stone’s throw away from my house. The nursery school was in Farrer Park while my house (we have moved house since then) was in Kent Ridge. We definitely could not take the taxi as we would be bankrupt in almost no time. There was no bus stop next to the nursery. That proved to be a major problem for me. Why? I had a younger brother who needed to be taken care of. The worst thing was that he would start screaming and crying once he stepped out of the house, for some funny reason. With father at work, mum had to take care of him, so I had to go to school to and fro by myself everyday. I would most probably have gotten lost, as I was still about three years old. I also did not know how to ride the bicycle then (duh!). Therefore, my mom hired this rather old trishaw rider, and from that day on he would ferry me to and fro every day.

Over the year, I learned that in order to supplement his meagre income, he would also work as a rag-and-bone man. He would diligently search for discarded cardboard pieces or aluminium cans, whether in covered HDB apartment void decks or under the blazing afternoon sun.

I can still remember with fondness the time when I was rather sick. However, my mother and I did not know it at all – until I started vomiting in earnest in the trishaw. You would expect the old man to be enraged at seeing his dear rickshaw dirtied in such a manner. Yet, not just did he not have a few sharp words with me; he immediately took me home hastily, all the while saying reassuring words all the way. He even bought two big, red, juicy apples which cost about two dollars each. If he earns about ten cents a day through picking up cardboard pieces, he would have blown away more than a fortnight’s salary on the apples. You can see how caring he is from this example.

Thus ends my relationship with the trishaw rider. I have not seen the man for about seven years; the last time I saw him, he was about eighty years old. I wonder where he is now. I miss him.

And the rickshaws in Chinatown and Little India live on… …