Edited Copy of My Short Story(A Repost)

Title: Three Hundred Ringgit

I can never forget that day, when the calm of our uneventful childhood was shattered by an experience that brought fleeting joy and then pain into our lives. It is the pain I remember the most. Perhaps pain is the usual harbinger of unpleasant things to come.

It was late in the afternoon, I remember, and we three children were sprawled on the floor of our living-room, playing Billionaire, when a white Mazda pulled up in front of our gate. The driver, a fashionable young man, came into the house looking for Papa. His dark-purplish sunglasses captured our interest. Papa's face brightened when the visitor mentioned something like two hundred and fifty in his thick Fuzhou accent.

He shook the young man's hand and thanked him profusely. Then,he saw him off at the front gate.

In a flurry of excitement, Ah Hui, my older sister, ran to Mama's side with my brother and I in tow. Tugging at Mother's sleeve, she asked:

"Mama, is it true? That sunglasses-wearing man has ordered two hundred-and-fifty steamed buns from us?"

"Yes, he will come and collect them tomorrow evening," Mama said, smiling.

"Will Papa be selling buns in the market tomorrow evening?" I asked.

“ No, Papa will be taking all of us to a movie."

"Yippee!" exclaimed Weng Weng, my younger brother.

"How much will we get from the sale, Mama?" asked Ah Hui, curious and concerned at the same time.

"Three hundred Ringgit," said Mama, her eyes sparkling.

"That's a lot of money!" piped Weng Weng, capering in delight.

"Yes, indeed,” said Mama. “That money will recoup the amount your father spent on the repairs of our car."

"Hey, you three," hollered Papa, coming into the house from outside." It's time for you to do your homework."

"Okay, Papa," my siblings and I chorused happily.

I am sure we all fell into a blissful sleep that night. It had not been easy for Papa to earn such a huge sum of money recently. Silently in my heart, I thanked the Mazda-driving man for doing us a good turn.

At 10am the next morning, my parents began work, making steamed buns. They went through the process of weighing flour, mixing overnight-fermented yeast to the flour and kneading dough. While waiting for the dough to proof, Mama wasted no time preparing the filling. She put pre-marinated pork into our old oven and baked the meat until a spicy, mouth-watering aroma drifted out, filling the entire kitchen. Then, while waiting for the meat to cool, she made gravy for the buns. First, she sauteed shallots until they were fragrant. Next, pre-toasted flour was added. She diluted the flour with water and seasoned it with barbecue sauce, sugar and salt. She kept stirring the gravy to prevent it from curdling. After straining it, she left it aside and cut the slightly charred meat into cubes. Then she poured the gravy over the meat and mixed it well.

When the dough had doubled in bulk, Papa mixed it with a fresh amount of flour. He kneaded it gently until it was smooth. Then, he left it to proof again. After thirty minutes, he portioned out the dough and rolled each of them out into a circle with a roller.With Mama's help, Papa spooned the filling onto the center of each rolled out dough and sealed it by pleating the edges. Ah Hui, Weng Weng and I watched on with keen interest. Occasionally, Papa and Mama would let us try sealing a few buns, though our efforts only ended up in a miserable-looking row of pleats on the buns.

By the time my parents had finished sealing the buns, it was already three in the afternoon. They arranged them neatly in bamboo steamer trays and staked them up on the stove. All the buns were steamed on high heat. While the buns were steaming, my siblings and I were told to play in the shady backyard. The air in that rented house of ours was as hot as a kiln. Our parents' faces were slicked with sweat and their clothes stuck to their skin. The sole fan in our house whirred ineffectually in the kitchen.

Every fifteen minutes, the buns were checked to see if they had cooked. And each time the lid was lifted up, hot steam burst out in clouds from the steamer . My parents would keep a good distance from the released vapor to avoid being scalded. With gloved hands, they transferred the cooked buns on platters, and heaped yet more uncooked buns onto the steamer trays. Sweat trickled down their faces in tiny rivulets.

By four in the afternoon, all the buns were cooked. Puffed-up and fluffy in sheer whiteness, they cracked beautifully across the centre, revealing the reddish, savoury filling inside. Our buns were Hong-Kong style pork buns, and not many people could make that kind with success. It is not easy to make the skin because the yeast fermentation itself takes many hours.

I looked at the fruit of my parents' labours with pride. In two hours'time, the sunglasses-wearing man would come and collect them. Papa would then earn three hundred Ringgit and take us to a movie.

At 6p.m., all of us waited in eager anticipation for the man who would change our fortunes outside the house. We chatted excitedly with Papa.

"Papa, what movie will we watch?" asked I.

"A Kung-Fu movie with Jackie Chan in it,” said Papa.

"Yay, I love Jackie Chan!" shouted Weng Weng.

"Papa, when you've received the money, will you grant my wish?" asked Ah Hui.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Can you buy us 'Candy Candy', the famous Japanese comic series?"

"Sure, no problem," grinned Papa.

"Thank you, Papa!” chirped Ah Hui.

However, the man did not show up at the promised time. Our wait turned out to be an interminable one. Evening segued into night, leaving behind some remnants of red, purple and gold in the sky.

"Mama, it's almost seven! Where is that man?" groaned Ah Hui.
"Robert, can you phone that man?" said Mama, in a voice filled with worry.
"Okay, I will go next door and telephone Mr. Tang," said Papa.

While waiting for Papa to come back, I was on the constant lookout for any car which resembled the man's white Mazda on the road. Every time I saw a white car approaching our house from afar, I would yell: "The sunglasses man is coming, the sunglasses man is coming!". My excitement would quickly dissipate when each of them whizzed past our house.

Fifteen minutes passed. Papa returned home with bad news. The Mazda-driving man had changed his mind and he would not be collecting the steamed buns from us. Our hopes of earning three hundred ringgit and watching a movie were dashed. Never in my life had I seen my parents that hurt, angry and disappointed.

Ah Hui, Weng Weng and I cried, our hopes of Jackie Chan and Candy-Candy comics fading like steam in the night air.

“ Robert, can you phone Mr. Tang again? If he had a modicum of conscience, he would pity us and collect the buns," pleaded Mama, her voice choked in the tears she was trying to hold back.

"I have tried my best, Ah Lan. But he was adamant!" bellowed Papa, his face flushing with fury.

My parents could not for the life of them figure out why that man went back on his word.

On my way to the bedroom which I shared with my siblings after a shower, I saw Papalooking morosely at all the uncollected packets of buns on a table. His brows were tightly knitted and his shoulders heaved with the force of the emotion within him. The sight brought a lump to my throat.

At bedtime, I told Mama how I felt.

"Mama, it's not fair. That man should not have lied to us."

"Tai-Tai, we can't do anything. That's life," said Mama.

"Does it mean that bad people can get away with breaking promises?"

"I am not sure. But we should avoid doing that all the time," advised Mama.

“Curse that man, I hate him. The world is hopeless with liars like him!"

"Don't be like that, Tai. The world is hopeful as long as we practise good values in our life."

"How to practise good values, Mama?"

"Be honest, be truthful, be hardworking and be persevering. Nobody can harm us if we uphold all these values in our life."

"But will you and Papa be in the mood to sell buns again tomorrow?" asked I.

"We have to," said Mama. Her voice was full of benign love. "We love all the three of you. Selling steamed buns is the only way we earn a living. However sad we are, we should move on with our life. We should never be afraid of failures."

After Mama had switched off the light and left, I made myself a silent promise: I would study hard to give my parents a better life when I grew up. And I would see to it that they would get more than three hundred ringgit every month.