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I remember a friend, a few years ago, who would not pick up cycling as a recreational activity. At that time, his friends were slowly taking up cycling and cutting back on long-distance running, as years of thumping on the knees had started to take effect. In my friend's mind, reverting to cycling was a kind of downgrade. His immigrant ancestors got off the boats here as economic migrants. Owning a beaten-up bicycle was a luxury. His grandfather had an old bicycle as his sole possession. He had nothing else to do will down to his children, except a roof under which they could shelter and siblings for love and affection. The friend's father managed to own a motorcycle and later a secondhand car. The father, the son of an immigrant, thought he was his success story.
My friend managed one step better. He secured himself a tertiary education and a white-collar post, driving around in a continental car. In his mind, he had made it in life. Philosophically speaking, he had cracked the curse of poverty. Cruising around in an air-conditioned vehicle, protected from the elements, not panting, moving from A to B, is his definition of moving on up. Hence, he said no to cycling.
A few years down the line, surprise, surprise. My friend too got the cycling bug. Slowly feeling the strain of running, he too embraced pedaling for health reasons.
These days, he is singing a different tune. He boasts that it is a privilege to have the luxury of spending long hours in recreation while the peasants plough for their supper. He now labels recreational cycling as a bourgeois activity.
Another friend grew up in a new slum-like living accommodation in low-cost flats. He hated his life and frequently felt embarrassed when he needed to fill out application forms. He could not understand why his parents could not live at a place with a regular address but instead in one which stated the floor, lot number and the name of the pathetic flats, which immediately tells the reader that he is from the ghetto.
His aversion to poverty propelled him to move on up the ladder of prosperity. One of the first things he did after working was to buy a home, a landed property with a house number, a road name and a district name.
Time flew by. His daughter, now in her own element, secured a life for herself. The next logical thing to do after marriage was to build a home. So, where did she and her beau decide to do that? Not a landed property, but a high-rise apartment.
The country had progressed and grown exponentially. The price of land and properties had skyrocketed. Naturally, the country was growing vertically. The younger generation, quite impressed with the resort-type of living, often opted to live in condominiums, which provided security and recreational facilities.
My friend, who attended the housewarming celebration, told me what went through his mind as he proudly perused his daughter and son-in-law's brand-new abode.
So that is how it is. Life often comes full circle. What is fashionable today often becomes passé tomorrow. Things that we abhor today may one day become part of our survival toolkit later on. The high-rise living accommodation that my friend hated in his younger days turned out to be his daughter's crowning glory. We may hate the sight of our parents during the confusing days of the teenage years and vow never to be like them, only to realise, in our twilight years, that the apple does not fall far from the tree. Such is life, taking a full circle.
Farouk Gulsara (asokansham@gmail.com) is a content creator under the Newswav Creator programme, where you get to express yourself, be a citizen journalist, and at the same time monetize your content & reach millions of users on Newswav. Log in to creator.newswav.com and become a Newswav Creator now!
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