"...and to whom the fortune of war
denied them the customary rites
accorded to their comrades in death."

Visited the Kranji War Memorial today. The place is very peaceful and quiet. Beautiful, too. I could imagine studying there. If I was not bothered by the thought of deceased soldiers around. On impulse, I looked for Adnan Saidi's through the register, he was Second Lieutenant of the Malay Regiment. And hero to the Malays. He was in column 385. I saw his name inscribed on one of the walls, along with countless others who died in service to the British Crown. I found myself saddened at the thought of so many people dying. I saw many who died young, before they could live their life to the fullest. Once, I saw a memorial dated 1919~1941. He was born during the First World War and died in the Second. All his life, he live in a time of strife. We quietly (well, as best we could when talking about the memorial) walked along the neat, manicured lawns. All except my mother, of course. The loudness of her voice and frankness of speech mad it seem very obscene in the reverent atmosphere of the cemetery.

I saw many who were not of our own. Who died on a shore far away from their land of birth. Who died fighting for another man's land. Who served us and saved us from Japanese domination. As I looked, I saw many inscriptions like "BELIEVED TO BE" AND "BURIED NEAR THIS SPOT". It is uncertain that those remains are theirs. Some have questionable religion or names and are honoured just by a simple memorial in their honour. Nameless and misplaced. They were alot of Indian Muslims that died here. They seem forgotten at the back of the memorial, as they are facing the other side. Looking at their place of birth or battalion origin, they are far away from home. Hardly anyone comes to visit them. We saw a few "ang mohs" there too. Looking for their ancestors. Forgotten and lost lineages. I could go on. But I won't. I will leave the sanctity of the memorial intact...