The Pink IC

As the day of redemption approaches very near for both Eddie Cai and Alvin Ong, I feel apt to recall the day for my own remembrance sake, lest it be forgotten forever.

It feels weird, especially after using the green card (which has torn plastic) for 2 years, the pink IC actually feels thinner than the green, and more flexible too.

It is only on the last day, that I realise just how many friendships were forged during the one year trial of fire. (in the form of exercises) Reluctant as a guy to say it, but I actually have a tinge of regret that I will never be able to witness the many quirks of my bunkmates, which of course, in real life would never be displayed or condoned.

Throughout the one year, I have always trudge out of the gates walking slowly past the tank. For the last time, it was different in that I had a bunkmate to hitch a ride from. Always felt that the army camp is a crucible and a microcosm of the outside world. If the whole unit detests a person, it must really be something wrong with that guy. Adaptation to the outside world would be a harsher lesson for the guy indeed. No names, no comments from this point onwards, lest this place is located through the search engine.

It was only during the last month that I realise guys are the most uninhibited, goofy, quirky, lame and of course crude (to put it nicely) in the presence of other guys in the next 5km away. But at least they are honest. It was lame and fun, having nary a worry about the outside world but anxious whether our hair is too long.

Remembered swearing a vow to heaven that I will get a new phone (camera) once I really step out of the gates. Now, with hair long and messy, I have fulfilled my vow.

After 2 years of lost time, the mind that has been condemned and locked is finally released from its prison. Anachronism and archaic rules that once bound it with iron locks have been broken and shattered to the ground. The body muscles are well toned and firm, but the brain department has become complacent over the months. It is time to tilt the balance. The freedom granted is a gift. Even merely walking around unhindered by hierachy of rule is a pleasant affair by its own right. (try walking Orchard Road and NUS, NTU, SMU and greeting an old group of have-beens, well not all of them, sirs each time you pass by them. The fear of not doing so is also a bitter feeling)

The pair of black spectacles that once hindered vision will be placed in the spectacle box, never to be touched in a long time. Duffel bags were briefly dusted, to collect stuffs from camp to home, so that it can lay at home to gather more dust. Some were not fortunate enough. They were left behind in bunks just as some chose to throw away the unpleasant memories.

The young men with duffel bags in tow walk out of the gates, with whole new lives to begin ahead of them.

End of Disc 2. Please change the disc to continue.