Golden Point Award 2021 by Arts House Limited

GOLDEN POINT AWARD 2021

ABOUT ARTS HOUSE LIMITED Arts House Limited (AHL) is a not-for-profit organisation committed to enriching lives through the arts. AHL is the cultural place manager of Singapore’s Civic District. It manages two key national monuments – The Arts House, a multidisciplinary arts centre with a focus on literary programming, and the Victoria Theatre & Victoria Concert Hall, a heritage building that is home to the Singapore Symphony Orchestra. It also runs performing arts space Drama Centre as well as the Goodman Arts Centre and Aliwal Arts Centre, two creative enclaves for artists, arts groups and creative businesses. AHL organises the Singapore International Festival of Arts – an annual pinnacle performing arts festival; as well as the Singapore Writers Festival – a multilingual festival presenting the world’s top literary talents. In addition, AHL manages Our Cultural Medallion Story – the showcase on Singapore’s Cultural Medallion recipients at The Arts House. AHL was set up in 11 December 2002 as a public company limited by guarantee under the National Arts Council and was officially renamed Arts House Limited on 19 March 2014. For more information, visit artshouselimited.sg

EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR’S WELCOME MESSAGE The Golden Point Award 2021 (GPA meaningful discussions on thought2021) is Singapore’s premier creative provoking topics, while providing writing competition. Participants were opportunities for all who aspire to share welcome to submit their works under the their stories. Short Story and Poetry categories, in the nation’s four official languages: English, We are deeply encouraged by the Chinese, Malay and Tamil. Though the creativity and quality of short stories 15th edition of GPA has gone fully digital and poetry received. The overwhelming this year, we received close to 2,000 response from participants demonstrates entries across the various categories, a a strong interest from emerging writers record high since its inception in 1993! to express themselves through the written word, and we hope that GPA will GPA serves as a platform for discovering continue to uncover fresh writing talents new writers and encouraging literary and encourage literary expression in expression in Singapore. The award is Singapore. open to anyone and everyone, and is not limited to any age, subject or theme. It Congratulations once again to all does not require any professional writing the deserving award winners, and a experience and instead, encourages warm thank you to all writers who had writers and non-writers alike to explore participated in this year’s Golden Point their literary inclinations. We hope to Award. We hope you will continue encourage publishers to consider some pursuing your interest in writing and of these works. achieve greater heights in the local literary arts scene, for GPA is not the In the spirit of nurturing, developing and end –– it is only the beginning. strengthening the literary arts community in Singapore, Arts House Limited also To more words, organises annual literary events like Tan Boon Hui these to provide a space for audiences Executive Director, to delve into and enjoy creative ways Arts House Limited of storytelling. At the same time, GPA provides us with a means to express ourselves through the written word, and share our observations and reflections about the world we live in. It fosters 3

Golden Point Award

金笔奖

ABOUT GOLDEN POINT AWARD The Golden Point Award is Singapore’s premier creative writing competition for Short Story and Poetry in the nation’s four official languages: English, Chinese, Malay and Tamil. Established by the National Arts Council in 1993, the national literary writing competition is a significant platform for discovering new writers whose works exhibit literary merit and encouraging literary expression in Singapore. The competition is open only to individuals who, at time of application, have yet to publish a solo work in the specific genre they are competing in. Writers whose works have been published in journals or anthologies (whether online or in print) are eligible to enter.

Anugerah Pena Emas தங்க முனை விருது PROGRAMME

Saturday, 11 December 2021 3.00pm

Welcome/Speech by Guest of Honour, Ms Goh Swee Chen Chairman, National Arts Council

3.15pm

Prize Presentation Honourable Mention – Poetry and Short Story 1st, 2nd & 3rd Prize – Poetry and Short Story

4.15pm

Video showcase of top entries

4.30pm

End of Ceremony

WINNERS (POETRY) ENGLISH POETRY

CHINESE POETRY

1ST PRIZE Jerome Lim 2ND PRIZE Tan Xiang Yeow 3RD PRIZE Janice Heng

1ST PRIZE Lin Yijun 2ND PRIZE Liu Xiaoyi 3RD PRIZE Wang Zhe

HONOURABLE MENTION Jane Lee Norashiqin Toh See Wern Hao

HONOURABLE MENTION Chua Kay Liang Yu Miaomiao

MALAY POETRY

TAMIL POETRY

1ST PRIZE R Azmann A Rahman 3RD PRIZE Herman Rothman

1ST PRIZE Banu Suresh 2ND PRIZE Koothaperumal Saravanaperumal 3RD PRIZE Mohanapriya Chandrasekaran

HONOURABLE MENTION Ahmad Syarifuddin Mohamed Pitchay Gani Mohamed Abdul Aziz

HONOURABLE MENTION Hemalatha Varadarajan Mathikumar Thayumanavan

WINNERS (SHORT STORY) ENGLISH SHORT STORY

CHINESE SHORT STORY

1ST PRIZE Divya Govindarajan 2ND PRIZE Sofia Mariah Ma 3RD PRIZE Aaron Ho Khai Han

1ST PRIZE Lee Tong Gee 2ND PRIZE Phoon Jing Ying 3RD PRIZE Chan Keen Mun Ng Kiat Fah (无花)

HONOURABLE MENTION Chen Cuifen Way Kai Siang

HONOURABLE MENTION Han Ye

MALAY SHORT STORY

TAMIL SHORT STORY

1ST PRIZE Ratna Damayanti Bte Mohamed Taha 2ND PRIZE Junaidah Baharawi 3RD PRIZE Titi Murni Bte Monir

1ST PRIZE Tamilselvi Rajarajan 2ND PRIZE Hemalatha Varadarajan 3RD PRIZE Venkatramani Subramaniam

HONOURABLE MENTION Hartinah Ahmad

HONOURABLE MENTION Athinamilagi Kokila Priya Jaikumar

FIRST PRIZE

ENGLISH POETRY

Hot Wheel Summer by Jerome Lim

Summer passed us by like a hot-wired Roomba. We’d met & your first words were The Robot Car of Tomorrow May Just Be Programmed to Hit You. How we made rhyming beeps while docking, skin welting in herringbone. One humid day we struck the beaks of birds aflame & barbequed hearts of onion on their cute breastbones. Back in that house the chargers were always unplugged; we trained them to live on. I knew our savage vacuum children will conquer Russia in winter someday. But everyone else was livid. Stop persecuting pigeons! So we made our petbots wings from razors. Pegasaucers. We fell in love amidst our basilica of lint-filter bags. Hit me, hit me. Afterwards we waltzed to the comforting buzz of drones singing gotcha in some scared desert. Our summer love sucked.

FIRST PRIZE

CHINESE POETRY

卵

by 林艺君 Lin Yijun

赤身从细雨走过赤道黑痣在胸前突然落成一朵焦黑的花盛开古龙牙门，深刻从 700 多年前搬运来，吞吐的肺叶雾气从细微处被剪短感冒的女人眼神，侵染着乌灰的鱼鳞，呈现膏状细胞从蝇雾里分裂成正反面绵绵如卵每个子宫都坠着艰难的灵魂，抵岸微风，缓缓剥开她生命黏稠，是这般黏稠方能与现世对称深海爬出一些装满主义的胚泡贪婪吸吮着她仅剩的意识即使不上岸，也无人知晓魑魅魍魉堵住岛屿的血管用记忆翻炒着，血栓比全熟的鸡蛋还凝固上帝举起杖，反复测量细胞的周长啧啧摇头，此物不可考通天塔的每个人都淋了隐晦的雨它们在科学的子宫膜里着床但，不是每个子宫都能孕育生命

TRANSLATION Spawn

translated by Wee Kek Koon

Naked, crossing from a drizzle to the equator The black mole on the chest bursts into a burnt-black flower in full bloom The ancient Dragon’s Teeth Gate, with deep cuts Transported here over 700 years ago; lungs that breathe in and out Mists that are cut short from where they are fine The gaze of a woman with a cold is infected With dark grey fish scales, paste-like Cells from the fly-blown mists cleave into obverse and reverse Unending like spawn From every womb hangs a difficult soul; reaches the shore The breeze opens her up gently Life’s viscidity; it is this viscidity That allows symmetry with this life Ideology-filled blastulae crawl out from the deep sea Greedily sucking on her remaining consciousness No one will know even if they don’t land Mountain and swamp monsters block the island’s arteries and veins Stir-frying memories, the blood clot is more coagulated than a hardboiled egg God raises His staff, constantly measuring the cell’s circumference Shaking His head: Tsk-tsk. This thing cannot be studied. Everyone at the Tower of Babel is drenched With cryptic rain They make their beds on scientific endometria But, not every womb can breed life.

FIRST PRIZE

MALAY POETRY

Deru Derap Dongeng-Dongengan by R Azmann A Rahman

yang berderu berderap di lidah itu tidak perlu berpucuk pangkal tidak perlu sebab-musabab tidak perlu hukum akal tidak perlu hukum adab tidak perlu dialas teori tidak pernah digalas konvensi asal sedap ditatang sedap saja ia dihidang yang datang menderu-deru itu dongeng tanpa asal-muasal bisa saja dari langit dari celah awan larat mungkin saja dari gunung dari cembung bianglala mungkin kahak di kerongkong ombak menanti saat dimuntahkan bersama gelodak

celakalah kita andai setiap deru derap dongeng yang singgah di telinga ditimbang tidak dibelek tidak dibiar apung di awang-awang bermandat tidak berkawat tidak dibiar sergam di hujung lidah ditangkis tidak ditapis tidak dibiar rasuk akal dan minda

yang muncul menderap-derap itu dongeng-dongeng yang berkeajaiban kekuatannya tidak terduga kekuasaannya tidak terjangka gegar gempurnya tidak beringat tidak bersukat tidak ia peduli sama sekali andai yang dirempuh runtuh itu adat dan adab tidak ia berfikir dua kali andai yang dihancurleburkan itu kesejahteraan bersama

TRANSLATION The Raving of Tales translated by Annaliza Bakri

the one that raves on the tongue no need for a basis of origin no need for cause and effect no need for law of reason no need for a sheath of theory never born out of conventions as long as it’s cupped copiously it will be dished out liberally the one that arrives raving tales with no provenance cascading from the sky through the rifts in the moving clouds perhaps from the mountains through the rainbow’s arc perhaps mucus in the swelling throat awaits the time it is spewed with emotions the one that appears raving tales of mystique its strength unfathomed its power unanticipated its reverberation unforeseen it has no criteria it doesn’t care at all if one is crushed by the avalanche customs and civilities he doesn’t think twice if what’s shattered is the mutual well-being

we’ll be damned if every rave of a tale that reaches the ears is not weighed is not surveyed is left adrift in the air not mandated not connected left to manifest at the tip of the tongue not rebutted not sieved left to possess intellect and mind

FIRST PRIZE

TAMIL POETRY

ந�ோய்மையின் மகிழ்ச்சி மற்றும் மீள்தலின் துயரம் by பானுசுரேஷ் Banu Suresh

ஒப்பனைப்‌ பேழையும்‌ மருந்துப்‌ பேழையும்‌ காதலித்ததில்‌ நான்‌ பிறந்தேன்‌. நாடக மேடைக்கும்‌ மருத்துவமனைக்‌ கட்டிலுக்கும்‌ நடுவிலான சிறிய இடைவெளியில்‌ நான்‌ விளையாடி வளர்ந்தேன்‌. வண்ணங்கள்பூசி மனதை நிலைகுலைக்கும்‌ தந்‌தை மாத்திரைகளின்‌ வெண்மையில்‌ உடலைச்‌ சாந்தப்படுத்துகிற தாய்‌ நான்‌ இருவரின்‌ கைகள்‌ பிடித்தும்‌ நடந்தேன்‌ விந�ோதங்களின்‌ பாதைகளில்‌. கலையும்‌ மருத்துவமும்‌ இணைகிற அற்புதப்‌ புள்ளியில்‌ எப்போதும்‌ வந்து நிற்கிறது வாழ்வும்‌ நினைவும்‌. என்‌ உடல்‌, ஒப்பனைப்‌ பூச்சுகளின்‌ வாசத்தாலும்‌ மாத்திரைகளின்‌ நறுமணத்தாலும்‌ நிறைந்திருக்கிறது எப்போதும்‌. ஒன்றில்‌ ந�ோயுற்று மற்றொன்றில்‌ மீண்டு துயருறுகிறேன்‌ அல்லது ஒன்றில்‌ மீண்டு மற்றொன்றில்‌ ந�ோயுற்று மகிழ்ந்திருக்கிறேன்‌.

TRANSLATION Joy of Sickness and Grief of Recovery translated by Kokilavani Silvarathi

I was born from the love between The cosmetic kit and the medicine cabinet. I played in the spaces between The stage and the hospital bed. Dad who crushes the heart by applying colours Mum who creates peace in the body through white tablets I walked holding both their hands Through the paths of oddities. Life and memory unite at that wonderful point where art and medicine merge. My body is filled with the scent of cosmetics And the fragrance of tablets, always. I’m sick in one thing And recovering in grief from the other Or I recover from one And find joy in this other sickness.

FIRST PRIZE

ENGLISH SHORT STORY

An excerpt from Handwriting by Divya Govindarajan

They had gone over everything the previous night, and she was looking through them one more time, just in case she had missed an odd scribble or something that would reveal what was on his mind. It reminded her of the time she learnt to sign her own name. It had been exhilarating, almost a project, a ceremony in crafting who she will be to the world. “Your signature says a lot about you, you want it to appear sure of yourself”, her mother had said. She had taken it rather seriously, looking up the signatures of some famous people. Before the internet, this involved scouring anything she could find in the libraries, you know the ones with the drawers and punch cards, where her father took her. There were these clippings from the newspapers that talked about what penmanship said about people. There were samples she tried to imitate. She was particular that she needed examples of those that had an initial for the middle, just so she’d know how to do it. Bill. J. Clinton. George.W. Bush. It was odd, really, why they had chosen for her to have one. None of the children in her school had such an odd name, and it wasn’t how people were named in her family before her, certainly. It had embarrassed her some, but now this was important because where she will go, maybe everyone will have a name like that. After much research, she had instead chosen to adopt the two dots and a stroke that he placed below his name, the same ones that were staring back at her. It pleased him then. The smell brought her back to where she was, in her father’s office. She wasn’t sure what the place smelled of. It was not of him. She felt simply too hot. “How did he survive here?” she thought. Especially as he had suffered more recently with the itches. It was autoimmune. She hadn’t chosen this one, but inherited it. This one left scars, both on him and then on her. This had not pleased him much.

FIRST PRIZE

CHINESE SHORT STORY

An excerpt from 走失 by 李棟義 Lee Tong Gee

走进传统咖啡店, 老板热情接待, 隔着口罩, 声音含糊。哥俩是儿时玩伴, 不讲客套, 直接问起生意状况, 老板唉声叹气。看到店里谨守防疫距离, 十桌撤走五桌的梅花型摆放, 每桌挨着三张空椅子, 为了省电, 只亮正中的那盏日光灯, 四周晦暗不明, 偶尔路过的风偷窥似的掀起窗帘, 阳光从那敞开的帘缝趁机溜进, 稍明亮了一下又随即消逝, 一屋子凄凉, 他欲言又止, 走到静谧角落坐下, 要了杯咖啡乌少糖。咖啡还没上桌, 老板的话题巴三揽四, 转移等待的情绪, 消磨时间。扯到黄婆的小花, 老板翘起大拇指, 大喝小花是只好狗, “匿死” 去了。小时候爷爷也讲过那离奇的故事, 可惜瓮声瓮气的, 让人发困, 漏掉不少细节。他分析, 多半是半途发生意外, 或是没来由地跑进原始树林, 被猛兽叼走。

咖啡来了, 老板踅来踅去地拍赶苍蝇。

他若有所思地搅拌着咖啡, 蒸汽搂抱咖啡的碳烤香气袅袅升腾。他跟同龄层的老人一样, 经常来捧老板的场, 只消仨仨俩俩地聚在一起, 就能凿开时光隧道的门, 然后一起赤条条地跳进河里, 一起摘了大西瓜拔腿就跑, 稚气未脱的笑声, 轰响寂寥的街道, 轰掉一个闲逸的晌午。今天十分冷清, 老板怕冷落了他, 忙活一下, 又回过来陪他。他随口告诉老板, 儿子已帮他办了永久居留, 随时可以过去和儿孙一起生活。老板替他高兴, 哩哩啰啰地讲了些欣慰的话, 临了看透了, 深深感叹, 金山银山还不如健康快乐地和一家人在一起。他无语, 抿嘴一笑, 内心旋即移民、陌生环境、小白、小花等问题统统纠结在一起。

TRANSLATION An excerpt from Gone Missing translated by Wee Kek Koon

Entering an old-fashioned kopitiam, he was warmly greeted by the proprietor, whose voice was muffled by his mask. The two men were playmates as children, so there was no need for niceties. He straight out asked him how his business was doing, and was answered with miserable and discouraged sighs. The coffee shop was carefully following Covid-19 distancing measures. The remaining five out of the original ten tables were arranged in the shape of a pentagon, with three empty chairs at each table. To save electricity, only the fluorescent light in the middle was turned on, leaving the rest of the kopitiam in semi-darkness. An occasional passing wind lifted the blinds like a voyeur, allowing the sunlight to slip in through the gap. The flash of light vanished at once, returning the interior to bleakness. He wanted to say something but stopped and sat down at a quiet corner. He ordered a cup of kopi-o with less sugar. Before the coffee was brought to the table, the proprietor rambled on with small talk to shift the mood of the wait and pass the time. When talk turned to Granny Ng’s Sio Huay, the proprietor gave a thumb’s up and loudly declared Sio Huay a good dog for ‘hiding away to die’. As a child, he had heard his grandfather tell that strange story. It was a pity that his grandfather’s low, muffled voice had such a soporific effect that he missed out on quite a few details. Based on his reckoning, what probably happened was that it met with an accident, or it ran into the primary jungle and was carried off by a wild animal.

The black coffee came. The proprietor shuffled about, waving the flies away.

Deep in thought, he stirred his coffee. The steam that embraced the charcoalroasted fragrance of the coffee rose in gentle waves. Like elderly persons of the same age group, he often came to support the proprietor’s business. Whenever two or three of them got together, the door that led to the past would be prised open. Then, they jumped into the river naked and picked up a big watermelon and ran. Their child-like laughter reverberated through the deserted streets, a blast in the unhurried midday. It was very quiet today. Not wanting him to feel neglected, the proprietor came back to him after he got some chores done. 17

CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS PAGE – AN EXCERPT FROM GONE MISSING

Offhandedly, he told the proprietor that his son had helped him get his permanent residency; he could go and live with his son and grandchildren anytime. The proprietor was happy for him. With soothing words, he blathered on about how one finally let go in the end, how profoundly true it was that mountains of gold and silver paled before the prospect of being with one’s family in happiness and in health. He had no words. He smiled a close-lipped smile. All at once, his worries about emigration, an unfamiliar place, Sio Pek, Sio Huay, they got all tangled together.

FIRST PRIZE

MALAY SHORT STORY

An excerpt from Dayung Sudah di Tangan, Perahu Sudah di Air by Ratna Damayanti Bte Mohamed Taha

“Ini caranya. Pertama buka aplikasi ini. Kemudian klik ini. Kemudian klik ini. Kemudian klik ini.” Tak jemu-jemu anak ini mengajarku, fikir Tok Arif. Ini sudah kali yang ke tiga puluh tiga. Namun anak istimewa itu tidak menunjukkan sedikitpun rasa resah. “Ok, Atok cuba ya. Buka aplikasi ini. Kemudian klik ini. Kemudian klik ini. Kemudian klik ini. Betul?” “Betul! Betul! Tok Malim pandai sekali!” Zaki, tertawa seperti keldai sambil mengepak-ngepakkan tangannya. Sejak pertemuan pertama mereka di poliklinik, Zaki dan Tok Arif semakin erat bersahabat. Mereka membuat temu-janji serentak dengan doktor masingmasing supaya dapat berjumpa. Seperti malim, Tok Arif akan mengekori Zaki dari bangunan Heartbeat hingga dia selamat di ambang rumahnya. Dalam masa sebulan, Zaki pun yakin untuk pulang ke rumahnya tanpa rasa terganggu. Tok Arif banyak menceritakan pengalaman belayarnya di laut lepas dan pengalamannya sebagai malim perairan Singapura kepada Zaki yang 16 sangat mendambakan apa jua maklumat tentang dunia perkapalan. Cucu-cucunya sendiri tak pernah tunjukkan minat apabila Tok Arif ingin ceritakan tentang zaman gemilangnya kepada mereka. Zaki lain. Daya ingatan Zaki menakjubkan. Dia dapat mengulangi cerita-cerita Tok Arif dengan terperinci sekali, seolah-olah dia juga telah mengalaminya.

TRANSLATION An excerpt from Oar in Hand, Boat in Water translated by Annaliza Bakri

“This is how you do it. First, open this app. Then, click this. Then, click this. Then, click this.” This young man never tires of teaching me, mused Tok Arif. It was the thirtythird attempt and yet, this special child did not show the slightest bit of annoyance. “Ok, let Atok try. First, open this app. Then, click this. Then, click this. Then, click this.” “Correct! Correct! Tok Malim is very clever!” Zaki laughed like a hee-hawing donkey while flapping his arms. Ever since their first meeting at the polyclinic, Zaki and Tok Arif grew to become the best of friends. They scheduled their medical appointments to be on the same day and time so that they could meet. Like a harbour pilot, Tok Arif would tail Zaki from Heartbeat @ Bedok all the way to Zaki’s home. Within a month, Zaki was confident enough to make it home without feeling anxious. Tok Arif regaled Zaki with tales of his sailing adventures and of his experiences as a harbour pilot; in turn, Zaki eagerly soaked anything maritime. Tok Arif’s own grandchildren had never shown any interest whenever he attempted to share his exploits at sea. Zaki was different. With his photographic memory, Zaki could parrot these stories with perfect accuracy, as though he too had lived through them.

FIRST PRIZE

TAMIL SHORT STORY

An excerpt from சன்னல்

by தமிழ்ச்செல்வி இராஜராஜன் Tamilselvi Rajarajan

இப்பையெல்லாம் கண்ணாடியில் நாங்க த�ோரண அலங்காரமெல்லாம் இல்லாம முழுசா தெரியற�ோம். ஆனா, இந்த சுத்தம் எங்களுக்கு சுகத்த தரல. ராத்திரியே கட்டி வச்ச ச�ோத்து மூட்டையை தூக்கிகிட்டு கம்பெனி வேன்ல ப�ோயி வெயில்லயும் மழையிலயும் வேல செஞ்சிட்டு அக்கடான்னு உடம்பு அலுத்துப்போயி வந்தப்ப நிம்மதியா இருந்தது. வேலைக்கு ப�ோகாம பாதி சம்பளம் க�ொடுத்தாலுமே சும்மாயிருப்பதுதான் க�ொடுமையா இருந்துச்சு. ப�ோதாக்குறைக்கு வெளியிலிருந்து வந்த சேதிங்க எங்களுக்கு அசதிய க�ொடுத்துச்சு. “என் மச்சான் தங்கியிருக்கிற டார்ம்ல ஒருத்தன் ம�ொட்ட மாடியிலேர்ந்து குதிச்சி தற்கொலை பண்ணிகிட்டானாம்” என்று ஜேம்ஸ் ச�ொன்னதும் ஐய�ோ என்றிருந்தது. “அவன் ரெண்டு மூணு நாளாவே யாருகிட்டயும் பேசாம சரியா சாப்பிடாம இருந்திருக்கான். ரூம்ல இருந்தவங்க பேசி பார்த்து சரியா ரெஸ்பான்ஸ் பண்ணலன்னதும் த�ொந்தரவு செய்ய வேணான்னு விட்டுட்டாங்க.” “ஆனா அவனால எப்படி வெளியில ப�ோக முடிஞ்சது!! எப்ப பாத்தாலும் மாம்ஸ் சுத்திகிட்டே இருக்காங்களே?” இப்படி அந்த செய்திய�ோட த�ொடர்ச்சியா அதைப்பத்தின ஊகமும் உலாவ ஆரம்பிச்சிடும். “அடைஞ்சி கிடக்கிறதுக்கு பதிலா ப�ோயி சேர்ந்துடலாம்ன்னுதான் இருக்கு,” சையதும் குமாரும் முனகிக்கிட்டே சன்னல் பக்கம் ப�ோனாங்க. “முட்டாப்பய வாழ்க்கையை அனுபவிக்க தெரியல. இவனெல்லாம் இருக்கிறதுக்கு ப�ோறதே மேல்,” கைத்தொலைபேசியில் படத்தைப் பாத்துகிட்டே முகிலன் ச�ொன்னதும் கடுப்பான ராமசாமி அண்ண “டே... நீ மனுசனாடா. ஒரு உசிரு ப�ோயிருக்கு. இரக்கப்பட வேணா. வாய மூடிக்கிட்டாவது இருக்கலாம்ல?” கத்தினார். “கால முச்சூடும் இப்படியேவா இருக்கப் ப�ோற�ோம்? அதுக்காக சாவணுமா?” அவனும் பதிலுக்கு பேச ஆரம்பிச்சதும் எங்க இது சண்டையில வந்து நின்னுடும�ோனு “டேய் முகிலா வாய மூடூடா”-னு நான் க�ொஞ்சம் கடுமையா சத்தம் ப�ோட்டதும் அடங்கிட்டான். விரும்பத்தகாத அமைதியாயிட்டு. திரும்பி முகிலன பார்த்தேன். தலைகாணிய சுவத்துல சாய்ச்சி வச்சிகிட்டு சரிஞ்சி படுத்தபடி கைத்தொலைபேசிக்குள்ள மூழ்கிருந்தான். பார்க்க க�ொஞ்சம் ப�ொறாமையா இருந்தது. எவ்வள�ோ பெரிய செய்தியை சாதாரணமா ச�ொல்லிட்டான். செத்து ப�ோனவனுக்கு இவன் வயசிருக்கலாம் இல்ல அதிகமாவும் இருக்கலாம். இந்த மனப்பக்குவம் இருந்திருந்தா அந்த முடிவுக்கு வந்துருக்க மாட்டானேனு வருத்தமா இருந்துச்சு. என் கையில “கண்ணதாசனின் காவிய வரிகள்”. “ண்ண....எப்பப் பாத்தாலும் படிச்சிகிட்டே இருக்கீங்களே! லைஃப்-யும் க�ொஞ்சம் என்ஜாய் பண்ணுங்கண்ணா... எங்க இளைய தளபதிய�ோட “சர்கார்” படத்த பாருங்கண்ணானு” அப்பைக்கப்ப என்னையும் ஓட்டுவான். “சிறகு கிடைத்தால் பறப்பது மட்டும் வாழ்க்கையல்ல, சிலுவை கிடைத்தால் சுமப்பதுதான் வாழ்க்கை”—படித்த வரிகள் நினைவுக்கு வந்துச்சு. 21

TRANSLATION An excerpt from Window translated by Kokilavani Silvarathi

These days, the mirror in our room only reflects our full image, bereft of the beautiful clothes hanging around that decorated our room previously. But this cleanliness hasn’t given us joy. It was so peaceful when we packed our lunch the night before, hopped in our company van, toiled in the sun and rain till our bodies were totally worn out. Although we received half our pay without having to work, sitting idle was more torturous. Moreover, the news we received from outside added to the discomfort. I was stunned when James said “A man staying at my brother in law’s dorm jumped from the top floor to his death”. “He hadn’t been talking to anyone for the past two-three days… wasn’t eating well. His roommates tried talking to him. They left him on his own when there was no response from him” “But how did he even leave the room? Securities are always patrolling around, isn’t it?” Other speculations would start to float around along with this news. “It is better to leave this world instead of being stuck in here,” mumbled Syed and Kumar, as they walked towards the window. “Idiot didn’t know how to enjoy life! He’s better off dead!” said Mugilan with his eyes glued to a movie on his cell phone. On hearing this Ramasamy got infuriated. “Dei, are you even a human? Someone just lost their life. If you can’t feel sorry for him, then keep your trap shut!” he shouted. “We won’t live like this for eternity. Is dying the only solution?” Mugilan retorted back. Fearing that this would escalate into an argument, I raised my voice, “Dei… Mugila, keep quiet!” Hearing my harsh words, he kept quiet. There was an uncomfortable silence. I turned and looked at Mugilan. He was engrossed in his handphone, sprawled on a pillow against the wall. I was envious. “How could he casually convey such a great philosophy? The man who died must have been Mugilan’s age. Had he had Mugilan’s attitude, he wouldn’t have taken that dreadful decision,” I thought ruefully. I had Kannadaasan’s (a famous Tamil Poet) Kaaviya Varihal in my hands. Mugilan always made fun of me whenever he saw me reading books. He would tease me, “Brother, you’re always reading. You need to enjoy life too. Watch Sarkar (a Tamil film by actor Vijay), my hero’s film!” “Life is not just about soaring high when you have wings, it is also about bursting into flames and rising from the ashes.” 22

LIST OF ADJUDICATORS ENGLISH POETRY Grace Chia Will Harris Yeow Kai Chai

ENGLISH SHORT STORY Akhil Sharma Balli Kaur Jaswal Clara Chow

CHINESE POETRY Gabriel Wu Quek Yong Siu Zhou Sese

CHINESE SHORT STORY Hon Lai Chu Tham Yew Chin Wong Koi Tet

MALAY POETRY Azhar Ibrahim Joko Pinurbo Kartini Anwar

MALAY SHORT STORY Farihan Bahron Isa Kamari Nisah Haron

TAMIL POETRY Geetha Sukumaran Nepolian Sithuraj Ponraj

TAMIL SHORT STORY A Ra Sivakumaran Chitra Ramesh Su Venugopal

SPECIAL THANKS TRANSLATORS 卵 (Spawn) Translated by Wee Kek Koon 走失 (Gone Missing) Translated by Wee Kek Koon

Deru Derap Dongeng-Dongengan (The Raving of Tales) Translated by Annaliza Bakri

Dayung Sudah di Tangan, Perahu Sudah di Air (Oar in Hand, Boat in Water) Translated by Annaliza Bakri ந�ோய்மையின் மகிழ்ச்சி மற்றும் மீள்தலின் துயரம்

(Joy of sickness and grief of recovery) Translated by Kokilavani Silvarathi சன்னல் (Window)

Translated by Kokilavani Silvarathi

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