It is a common consensus that the Mrt holds host to many bewildering stories on human behavior. Other than the lively discussions we’ve had on Mrt Rides Part 1 and Part 2, a scroll through Stomp.sg will give one endless food for thought on what kind on characters exist in Singapore nowadays. For a moment I’d like to step aside from the chaos of depraved teenage boys or broken-hearted Minahs, and look at the ‘normal’ commuters aboard.

I think that many of us are in the same boat, where, bored out of our wits sitting in a seemingly endless journey, our eyes start roving about looking at the people around. While some like to give a once-over on a person’s clothes and move on, I have this thing where I would ’study’ the person. This means that I would look at his clothes, his behavior, and from there, make a deduction on his lifestyle or history.

Of course, I know in the end that my deductions are baseless and can never be proven, but it just gives me a kick to feel as if I can read this stranger sitting in front of me. I feel that if I keep this conclusions to myself, and always keep a reminder that my thoughts are purely fiction, I cause no harm to anyone.

A few nights back whilst I was on the way home, I sat across a young family of four. To the extreme left was a Eurasian Mum, complete with blonde hair, freckles and blue eyes. In her arms which were covered with the short sleeves of a plain t-shirt, was her son who could be in the range of 7-8 months. The son, giggling and smiling widely at the antics of his mother, was a cross between her as well as his Chinese father, seated on the right. Between the parents, their young daughter, probably 4 years of age, sat playing with a ragged doll.

As I sat opposite them, I noticed the father, decked in office attire albeit in a very slipshod manner, staring into space as if deep in thought. His hands in his pocket (which were filled to the brim with crumpled paper), he kept looking at his shoes, oblivious to his two children next to him, as well as his wife, who was actually talking to him. On his face, to me, etched a million worries and concerns, and most importantly, a sense of weariness and resignation.

The wife who finally realized that her husband was only there in body, gave his hand a slight nudge and gave him a smile. The husband lifted his head for a moment, nodded, and continued staring at nothing. Sensing this, the wife gave her husband one last look, sighed, and reduced herself to silence.

This tension ran for the next few stations, until their stop finally arrived. Promptly, the mom got up carrying her son in her arms, heaved a huge haversack over her back, held her daughter’s little hands and left only the echoes from her well-worn slippers. The father, he took his time getting up, stuffed his hands back into his pocket which now, had papers halfway out, and dragged himself behind them. His mouth twitched into a grim line, as if preparing himself to face the hard realities now that his short escape on the Mrt ride was over.

As the doors closed behind them, I felt a tinge of sadness. In my head, I had conjured up images of the couple in happier times, before the cold hard facts of life and heavy responsibilities caught up with them. To me, it was a waste that the father, in his pursuit to provide for his household and make ends meet, was too exhausted and drained of energy to ‘be’ a husband and a father. As for the mom, I could see that she was trying so damn hard to please her husband and help in whatever ways she could, but had to bear with a lukewarm response from him.

Thus in that Mrt ride, I got myself a reminder that many a times as we are carried with the highs and lows of lives, as we struggle against the currents, we tend to misplace the people who are there to help us in the first place. It is sad how two people who love each other enough to promise their lifetime together, could be so distant after a few years.

I don’t know about you, but the prospect of that scares and saddens the hell out of me :(