Eternal love by BubbleDriver on DeviantArt (original) (raw)

Dedicated to my beloved Grandparents .

May you two be happy watching wayangs up in heaven. My heart weeps with both joy and sadness. Joy that you are with the Lord and know no more suffering , but I weep for our family is without your love.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and indigo, my maternal grandparents would don their best attire, ready for another Friday evening at the Goh Chor Tua Pek Kong Temple. Nestled along the bustling Balestier Road, the temple held a special place in my grandparents' heart .

The Goh Chor Tua Pek Kong Temple, though modest in size compared to its grander counterparts across Singapore, resonated with a historical charm of its own. Established in 1847 by Hokkien laborers tending to the nearby sugarcane plantations, the temple had been a silent witness to the transformation of the surrounding landscape over the years.

As one approaches the temple on balmy evenings, the neon facades of Balestier Road flickered to life around you, casting a kaleidoscope of colors that danced along the pavement. The electric blues, vibrant reds, and glowing yellows created an almost surreal contrast against the historical backdrop of the temple. Your senses tingled with anticipation—each sign, each glimmering light advertising wares. It was a slow up light display then , and still is today.

The temple itself was a visual feast, adorned intricately with ornamental carvings and red lanterns that swayed gently in the evening breeze. The scent of incense wafted through the air, mingling with the unmistakable aroma of durians—an olfactory signature of the area. Despite being symbolic of infamy for some, durians had become synonymous with our family outings, offering a sense of nostalgia that transcended mere culinary preference. The stalls, lined up like vibrant market booths, showcased the “king of all fruits,” their spiky husks a promise of the creamy indulgence that awaited inside.

It was not just about the temple; the accompanying wayang stage, built in 1906 with the patronage of Tan Boo Liat, stood as a testament to the community's resilience and joy. It commanded my attention, often drawing me into its world of vivid costumes and spirited performances, where tales of mythical heroes, heartbreak, and familial love unfolded before eager audiences. The stage, particularly alive during the Hungry Ghost Festival with its elaborate Chinese opera troupes, echoed with the sound of clashing cymbals and wafting melodies that lingered in the air long after the performance concluded.

On those same Friday evenings, my parents and I would venture to Shaw Towers, the nearby shopping mall that enveloped us in modernity’s embrace. It had become a ritual to step into that contemporary space with its glossy floors and sparkling lights—so different from the sacredness of the temple but charming in its own right.

Back then, supermarket sushi was a burgeoning novelty; I always opted for the cheese sushi, intrigued by its creamy layer, each bite a delight.

As we strolled back home, we would often pass the wayang show, waving to my grandparents in the crowd, their smiles warm and welcoming against the backdrop of theatrical brilliance. It was a precious moment—two worlds intersecting, the allure of modernity juxtaposed with the deep-rooted traditions echoing from the temple.

Time has shifted many things along Balestier Road, but my memories remain vividly intact—anchored in the laughter, the stories, and the shared experiences that defined my childhood.

The Goh Chor Tua Pek Kong Temple, with its pulsating wayang stage and the festive air of durian stalls, continues to thrive as a bastion of communal spirit, crafting memories for future generations just as it had for mine. Each visit is a thread woven into the tapestry of my life, a reminder of the enduring link between past and present, and the joy that emerges from both. As I navigate the ever-changing landscape of Singapore, that temple stands as more than a structure; it is my heart’s home, a place where culture breathes, and nostalgia perpetually abounds, forever inviting me back to where it all began.

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