a world without aeroplanes

some time ago i penned this short composition. it was valentine's day if i may recall correctly, and i struggled to complete for the Commonwealth competition that i obliged to join (against my will though). nevertheless, what came out was quite magical (relatively at least) - i rarely write like that - usually so sparse of ideas. a world without aeroplanes. enjoy (:
(P.S i loved the part on Faith, Hope and Love - haha)

---

Men love to dream, years ago we dreamt of flight. Gripped by the fascinating creatures of the air, tantalized by endless horizons, we sought to conquer what we could not, we sought to take to the sky, to sprout wings and take flight……

…….and, against all odds, we did.

1903, the Wright Brothers saw the culmination of their efforts, the realization of a life-long dream and the justification of all the criticism they had received – the first successful, powered, and piloted flight in history – they had finally done it right. It had been a mere twelve seconds, but with every second The Flyer hung in the air there was an increasing knowledge that the skies had been opened – pried open by the stubborn effort of human hands.

It was not merely the dream of two common men from rustic America; it was the dream of the entire human race; and in that single moment the whole architecture of the world was altered; men unlocked a new dimension, the dimension of flight. Over time, the world was further flattened, traveling times were cut – where we once spoke in months we now spoke in hours – and the pace of life quickened. The birth of the airplane, that cursed miracle, was responsible for this epic change in lifestyle.

Indeed it was a cursed miracle, for with the holidays to hitherto unreachable destinations, the rich cultural exchange made possible, and with the accelerated economic growth that resulted came the new medium of terror – who could forget that fateful day – and an unconscious degradation of our precious environment – surely one cannot remain indifferent to the pollution that our winged beasts have caused –

And Mother Nature, for all her maternal kindness, finally found a way to get even.

------------------

I decided that day, quite contrary to my usual self, to take myself on an early morning stroll. After all, it was always good to spend some time alone, quietly reflecting on the finer things in life. School had taken its toll on me, sapped me of the (supposed) vibrancy of youth – I was but an empty shell now, a victim of that merciless fast-paced society. Dragging myself out of bed, I plunked myself face-first onto the parquet floor –that cooling sensation one feels against his tummy – was tempted to remain a little long, but with much (strange) determination, uprooted myself and headed out of the room.

Outside, the pile of overdue worksheets yelled out at me, post-it notes spoke in accented phrases – you know, in that nagging manner that cannot be easily shrugged off – I tried to shut out the cacophonic noise, to cast it aside, but the only way out was through the front door; that was what morning walks were for anyway, recuperation, much needed recuperation.

Leaving behind the myriad of many competing voices, I proceeded to a quiet spot not too far away from home, a little pathway beside the Changi airport runway. Changi, my dear hometown since I came into being – here I was like a bird in the air, knowing every nook and cranny of the neighborhood like the back of my hand, every coffee shop, every hawker centre (O the best seafood one could find in Singapore!) – located on the east end of the island, built upon reclaimed land, and home to one of the leading airports in the world.

A short while later I found myself arriving at that narrow path; and an air of nostalgia immediately took me by surprise. How long had it been since I last felt this way?

My parents had taken me here when I was just a little child, and as I child I used to gape wide-eyed at the airplanes as they accelerated down the runway, which ran parallel to the path and was separated from the path only by a wire fence; and eventually, with a titanic roar, the airplanes ascended and vanished into the clouds above. I would crane my neck as much as possible, just to catch a last glimpse of the airplane’s tail glimmering in the sunshine, just to keep my sights on the plane for the longest time possible.

That was innocence, that was awe, but it was all part of the past now.

Or perhaps it was still worth a try now, maybe the world could change overnight.
I closed my eyes, and listened in anticipation, waiting for the roar of the plane engines.

Silence; a long silence; a long and painful silence.

------------------

It had been a month since the airplanes disappeared from the runway. Caged up in their hangars, they now had no freedom to fly, no song to sing, they simply lay dead. What had once been a busy and crowded runway was now a deserted stretch of concrete. A month ago it took me by surprise; I thought perhaps it was temporary, just a momentary precaution against the heightened terrorist activity of that period; but no, it was something else, something of greater weight – a lack of petroleum and a dying environment.

Yes, Mother Nature had grown tired of being exploited and neglected. Countless of times she protested, threatening with global warming and bizarre climatic changes, most of the time giving in to men’s stubborn ways. But eventually, even she could put up with it no longer, and men finally had to give in. Men could conquer many things, but men were at the mercy of Mother Nature. Faced with the lack of fuel, the entire international air industry went on a standstill, and Changi airport was no exception.

Right now I could only look on as some birds descended upon the runway, emboldened by the silence, cocking their heads rhythmically as they trod, pacing laterally along the pathway, looking as though they were trying to recover something that had been lost. Turning to face me, our eyes met through the wired fence; Blank stares, and suddenly they took off into the air, leaving as swiftly as they had arrived.

Emptiness again, and emptiness always led to thought…

------------------

Dad had first brought me here when I was a little child, we would place our hands upon the wire fence, gripping the fence tightly as we watched the airplanes fly by. It was a marvelous sight, or so Mum always told me, father and child side by side, simply watching on as the world passed by. I treasured up those timeless moments, gripped them as tightly as I gripped the wire fence, but ultimately, life had to go on. Dad too had to move on.

Eventually, Dad secured a job as a traveling businessman, with decent pay and all, but it came at a priceless sacrifice. Many times he would be away on business trips, abroad in some cosmopolitan city, visiting us occasionally, but departing again as soon as he returned. The airplane gazing sessions never returned – it was just me now, alone, on this side of the fence, watching Dad on the other side as the airplanes carried him away. And the separation grew greater as the years went by.

But suddenly, one day, he finally returned for good; that was the same day I read the news, the same day the air industry went on standstill. Dad returned with a forlorn look on his face, paced along the living room corridor, fast in thought. He spoke not, simply gave me a passing gaze and moved on to his bedroom, where he locked himself away from the world. A great and unsettling gulf hung across his bedroom door. Mum and I could do nothing about it. We simply adjourned to the living room and started praying frantically; perhaps Faith could fix a broken man.

It was a trying period, and often I had wished that the airplanes could return, that Dad could be happy once again – even if it meant more separation. But perhaps, just perhaps, I considered one day, there was a greater purpose in all this. After all, the world without airplanes was one where Dad could finally be back by our side, where our family could at last be reunited; but much had to be done to complete the reunification; Somebody had to break the ice, and one day, having mustered enough courage, I tried to do so.

“Dad, why not we go for a walk?”

“……”

“You know, like old times, the plane-gazing, the little path…”

“……”

“Dad?”

“…there are no planes, son.”

------------------

Men love to dream, years ago we dreamt of flight – but now I only dreamed for our relationship with Dad to recover, that it could take flight once again. In a life-changing moment, the airplanes had disappeared, but in that same moment Mother Nature had graciously granted me a window of opportunity, a blessing in disguise, and I tried, with much effort, to seize it.

There was still Hope, definitely; I managed a smile while still firmly gripping the wire fence, a ray of morning sunshine kissed my cheeks as the sun slowly emerged from its celestial bedroom somewhere beyond the clouds. The serene beauty of the morning sunrise was simply stunning, a delightful array of red and yellow paints swirled before my eyes, never before had I witnessed such a sight; or perhaps, it had always been there, but I had simply left it unnoticed.

And why had I only noticed when the airplanes had disappeared?

Time paused as I continued to stand in awe of the morning skyline, the empty runway now offering a completely unhindered view of its splendor – there they were, the timeless moments of before, finally returning like a rushing wind – except this time, there were no airplanes, no roar of the engines to speak of, there was simply silence, unbroken silence.

And at that moment, I suddenly turned to run; a wave of emotion overcame me as I sprinted toward home. I had to share it, I had to share it with Dad, and I had to let him know of this blessing in disguise. I had been filled, my cup overflowed, and now I simply had to fill someone else in return – Dad needed to be filled. And as I entered through the front door, I rushed straight to his bedroom, unbothered by the trivial ruckus of homework and post-it notes, and knocked passionately on his door.

It was unlocked.

Dad sat gazing out of the window, already looking at the splendid morning sky, his back toward me. But having felt my presence in the room, he finally turned to face me –

- And he smiled.