reminds me of my grandma’s funeral. Chinese Opera seems to be synonymous with Chinese funeral wakes.

I wonder if Chinese Opera reminds the older generation of the nostalgic memories of post-war life in Malaya after the Japanese left the country, defeated during the 1940s. A time where Chinese Opera and black and white kungfu flicks direct from Hong Kong were the staple diet for most people from all walks of life.

I remember those two nights of sobbing endlessly – mourning for the loss of someone who is special yet somehow distant. Public display of emotions are quite difficult to accept and can be quite embarrassing at times. By now, I have tried to conceal them within the confines of my emotional realm instead.

That memory was relived tonight. Chinese Opera music playing on the CD player in my mom’s room. The once hated Japanese are welcoming scholars from around the world for a chance to study in their country. And in return, the gesture is embraced with open arms from eager beavers. An absolute far cry from the times of our parents. Treachery might be a more apt description. But the world is changing – the pursuit of knowledge is more valuable than a 60-year grudge.

All the best to my chum, Alden who will be walking that path starting next week. I think it is a privilege. An honour perhaps. The Japanese are known for their no-nonsense attitude. And also breeders of cherubic clones, the likes of Takeshi Kaneshiro.

Perhaps that’s why they play Chinese Opera during wakes.