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other even though we didn’t see each other as often as before. I recall once getting into serious trouble with my friends Lai Beng and Thee Kow while waiting for my ‘O’ level results. Lai Beng lived in Block 26 in the Base which faced some bachelors’ quarters. There was a Malayalee man who would always stand at his balcony in his underwear, knowing full well that women lived in Lai Beng’s block. Since he was Malayalee, it was decided by my friends that I should tell him to put on his trousers whenever he was at the balcony. One day, seeing him at the balcony, I called out to him and politely suggested this to him. He didn’t take it well.
    “It’s none of your business,” he said gruffly.
    “It’s very rude,” I replied earnestly. “There are ladies around.”
    “Who are you to tell me what to wear in my own house? Just get out of here,” he screamed.
    After quickly putting on a pair of trousers, the Malayalee man came running downstairs brandishing a knife. In a flash, Lai Beng and Thee Kow were by my side. He probably expected us to run away, but I stood my ground and hit him instead. The next thing we knew, the man’s roommates came charging down and a scuffle broke out. We were initially outnumbered but help was at hand. Former national footballer Quah Kim Lye, his friends and other boys from the neighbouring blocks came to back us up. The Malayalee man was given the beating we all felt he deserved. In the meantime, somebody had called the police. When they came, the Malayalee man pointed at me, Lai Beng and Thee Kow as the main assailants. We were arrested on the spot and taken to the police station in a police car. The Malayalee man, somewhat bruised and battered, was allowed to cycle to the station at his leisure.
    We were kept in the police lockup for a long time. Lai Beng was the most worried among the three of us. He was scared about losing his fledgling job in the Base. Since we were students, Thee Kow (who is now a teacher) and I weren’t too worried. We knew we had done the right thing by confronting the Malayalee man about his indecency. We tried to distract Lai Beng by singing Elvis Presley’s songs. I suppose we got carried away. A police officer came to tell us to shut up as a white police officer had arrived at the station to handle our case. White police officers were always the most senior officers in the Base in those days, and it was claimed that they came from Scotland Yard.
    An hour later, we were taken to see the white police officer. He asked whether we needed an interpreter. In my best English, I said, “No, thank you, sir.” He appeared to be very impressed by my grasp of his native tongue as I explained to him what the Malayalee man had a habit of doing at his balcony. I was only 15 years old and my two friends were 16, but we knew that what the man did was wrong. The officer agreed with us and gave the man a telling-off. As he had the authority to do so, he also told the man to find alternative accommodation. Lai Beng, Thee Kow and I escaped with only a warning. To Lai Beng’s relief, the white officer assumed all three of us were students.
    The memory of this particular incident came back to me a few years ago when I learnt that Lai Beng had died suddenly of a heart attack. The morning he died, his daughter rang me at home. In between her sobs, she asked me about my health. She knew I had a heart problem. After her call, I had to sit down and steady myself as I thought about my old friend. His wake was surreal. It had always been his wish to have Elvis Presley’s songs at his funeral. As each song played, I had to choke back the tears because I could see Lai Beng miming those songs himself. When I saw him lying in his coffin, I was overcome by a sense of helplessness. His wife, Swee Neo, who is a sibling in the Quah footballing family, came to me and held my hands. Because we had all been through so much together she, more than anyone, could understand how I felt.
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