The Riot Act Page 15

  As Elvis so accurately predicted, both Rashid Rahman and Jowene Tay took to the microphone and tore Sharon down. Has Singapore become so callous a society that we segregate people and restrict the lower stratum access to public areas? Is the governing power so elitist that it automatically assumes migrant workers from Third World countries cannot behave themselves and need to be restrained with an armband while they are in public? And what an abomination it is to call congregations of hardworking migrant workers walking time bombs! Both Rashid Rahman and Jowene Tay went on record to demand that Sharon Shi apologise to the migrant worker community.

  That was the five-cherry jackpot line-up that Elvis had hoped for.

  Within hours after the parliament debates were telecast, an online war erupted. The liberals threw Sharon into the pit of shame and stoned her with unrestrained invectives and demeaning memes. Everyone in their camp demanded Sharon to apologise. The conservatives rallied around her and shielded her with excuses. She might have picked the wrong words but her message was not incorrect. The safety of Singaporeans should always come first. The furore only died down three days later, after Sharon had made a public apology for her inappropriate choice of words.

  While the public was distracted, Sharon worked furiously behind the scenes. She met up with the police commissioner and the Minister of Home Affairs to recalibrate the alcohol sales ban. All parties agreed that it would be scaled down to a sales restriction. Singaporeans who produced their identity cards could now purchase alcohol in Little India at any time of the day. Anshuman Tiwari was invited to the press conference where this amendment to the alcohol sales ban was announced. In his capacity as the chairman of the Little India Shopkeepers Association, Anshuman expressed his gratitude to Sharon, who had put up a successful plea that the charge against Nayagam Ranjan be dropped. He went further and applauded Sharon for her courage when she made a public apology for her “time bomb speech”. The people of Singapore should be proud of the exemplary honesty and equitability in their elected politicians. MP Sharon Shi represented the best of the democratic ideal!

  “Aren’t you glad it’s over?”

  Snuggling in bed the same night, Yu Chin had kissed her lightly on her temple and whispered. Sharon sighed in relief. The online shaming had left her tense and irritable over the last three days. It felt good to be pressed against the warmth of her husband’s body under the sheets. She reached lower and fondled him. Yu Chin obligingly slid on top of her and initiated sexual intercourse. It was slow and gentle as always, but Sharon felt she needed more. There was a lack of passion and intensity. It was as though Yu Chin were diligently performing his conjugal duty without ardour. Sharon wondered if he behaved differently with the other woman.

  Sharon had been too caught up with the aftermath of the Little India riot to give much thought to her marriage crisis. She was convinced that her husband had rekindled his secret affair with his old flame but the urge to confront him had died down over time. What did she want out of such a confrontation? Did she want him to renounce the other woman? What if he refused? Would he choose to leave her? She was a parliamentarian who had been in the limelight recently. An estrangement or divorce would attract media attention. Would she survive the media spotlight and public scrutiny?

  Perhaps it would be wiser to maintain the status quo.

  She could pretend not to know. Yu Chin was the perfect husband otherwise. He was an invaluable asset to her career, an intellectual match and an agreeable life partner.

  If only he showed more passion in sex.

  Sharon arched her back and began to thrust her pelvis upwards. She set a faster rhythm, hoping that Yu Chin would follow her lead. But Yu Chin was caught off-guard and fumbled. For a while, the two bodies bounced off each other in discord. It came to a point when Sharon prayed for the embarrassment to be over. She was secretly glad when Yu Chin pulled out, kissed her on the forehead, mumbled an apology about being too tired then rolled off to his side of the bed.

  After a moment of silence, Sharon asked, “The sentencing of the first rioter is scheduled for two weeks down the road, isn’t it?”

  “I believe so. You want me to check?”

  “It’s alright,” Sharon said. “I can check in the morning. Goodnight.”

  If nothing else, they could always enjoy the safety of discussing work.

  Part Four

  Arm Wrestle

  Chapter 10

  It had to be a technical glitch. That was the only explanation.

  How else could the last posting on Teen RV register an astounding 87,463 views? That was a stupendous jump of 7,200 per cent from the preceding high!

  As Hashwini continued to scroll through the lot of backdated postings, her amazement compounded. Every single article that discussed issues arising from the Little India riot had seen wild and inexplicable leaps in view counts. It was almost as if an entire horde of bison had started a mass migration across the plains and stomped through the valley that was Teen RV.

  How on earth did the sudden surge in interest come about?

  Euu Ki did not have an explanation either. Nevertheless, he reminded Hashwini that there was cause for celebration. They had installed Google Ads, which meant this leap in view counts would translate into ad income. Money in the pocket!

  But Hashwini was nervous. She wondered if there might not be a predatory pack of wolves tailing the horde of bison. Something must have triggered the stampede. Hashwini decided to consult the only other blogger she knew. She sent an email to ask Daxue if she knew what had caused such an unprecedented upsurge.

  Daxue replied within an hour. Does Teen RV not keep up with the news? The Media Development Authority of Singapore has just announced a devastating new regulation. Any website or blog that carries substantial political content will be required to put up a $50,000 performance bond. The official explanation from MDA is that there is a need to encourage a culture of responsible online reporting and to weed out fake or exaggerated political postings calculated to maximise viewership. Moving forward, the MDA has been empowered to challenge any website or blogger to back up their postings with facts and figures. Those who fail to do so must be prepared to have their performance bond confiscated.

  Stunned, Hashwini clicked on the link provided by Daxue and was redirected to the official website of the Media Development Authority of Singapore. True enough, Teen RV was listed along with 27 other websites and blogs which had been singled out for devoting at least forty per cent of their postings to political topics and content over the last 12 months. MDA announced that it would issue all 28 of them notification letters soon. They would be required to put up the performance bond within thirty days, failing which MDA would require them to shut down their website or blog.

  So that was the reason for the stampede. The online viewers were rushing in to pay their last respects. It was unlikely that any of the bloggers would be able or willing to fork out the required $50,000.

  “This sucks!” Euu Ki exclaimed when he received the update. “Just when Teen RV is starting to make money!”

  “I know, right?” Hashwini whined. “But I imagine it is worse for established bloggers like Daxue. They stand to lose ad income possibly in the thousands!”

  “Wait a minute,” Euu Ki said over the phone. “I am looking at the list on MDA’s website now, and I don’t see Daxue listed.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Check it out yourself.”

  Hashwini logged on to MDA’s website again. It was true. The Tornado headed the list, but Daxue was conspicuously missing. Unable to contain her curiosity, Hashwini dropped Daxue an email to enquire. How did she escape the persecution?

  The magic figure was forty per cent, Daxue explained. Hers was primarily a lifestyle blog. Prior to the Little India riot three months ago, she had been posting about make-up tips and celebrity gossip. As MDA was looking at a 12-month horizon, Daxue’s political content came up to a precarious 37 per cent. It was pure luck that she had flown under
the radar. But Daxue had learnt her lesson. She was determined to stay away from any hot topic that carried the slightest political association. It was simply not worth the risk.

  “It looks like we have no choice but to shut down Teen RV,” Hashwini lamented when Euu Ki showed up the following day to discuss the matter.

  “Not without a fight!”

  Hashwini was taken aback; she had never seen Euu Ki so bitter. She failed to understand that Euu Ki had been, owing to his sexual orientation, at the receiving end of varying degrees of oppression throughout his formative years. This despotic decree issued by MDA was yet another familiar clampdown by the authorities. He knew there was no way he could slay the giant, but he was determined not to succumb without a fight.

  “But what can we do?”

  The answer to Hashwini’s query came, not from Euu Ki, but from The Tornado. Omala Subramaniam had dispatched an email to the other 27 websites and bloggers on the infamous list to invite them to a protest she was organising.

  “We must go.”

  “I am not sure it is a good idea.”

  Hashwini had not told Euu Ki that she had recently found out she was wanted by the police. Euu Ki was the Queen of Gossip. In all likelihood, he would promise to keep it a secret and then turn around and text the various group chats he was on to share the juicy news.

  “Darling, this is our last stand. Imagine what the finale of X-Men: The Last Stand would look like if Wolverine, Iceman and Shadowcat decided not to turn up to fight Magneto? We have to be brave. Although I do wish The Tornado would make it a costume-themed protest. I would bleach my hair and go as Storm! I would be thunderously gorgeous!”

  Hashwini rolled her eyes. It was so typical of the diva in Euu Ki to glamorise a political protest as solemn as this. As it turned out, it was also characteristic of Euu Ki to persevere once he decided he wanted to go to a party. He disregarded Hashwini’s protest and turned up at her doorstep on Sunday morning to drag her out of the house.

  Hashwini was surprised to see a crowd of several hundred gathered in front of the open-air stage at Hong Lim Park. She had wrongly assumed that keyboard warriors who clamoured for blood online were usually meek and shadowy people in real life, and that such a public protest was unlikely to draw them out of their dens. Apparently The Tornado had its clout.

  “Oh my God, look at that hunk distributing pamphlets! We must go get one from him.”

  “This is not a gay party. Can you behave…”

  Before she could finish her admonition, Hashwini found herself swivelled around and pushed towards the eye candy that Euu Ki had set his sights on. She could immediately see why Euu Ki was smitten. The young man with the military crew cut had all the makings of a fitness model. When he turned to the two of them and broke out into a cheerful beam, even Hashwini felt weak in her knees.

  “Hello, we are here to support the protest,” Euu Ki said with a put-on American accent. Hashwini secretly cringed; Euu Ki did that every time he approached someone he thought was attractive. “What do you have for us?”

  The young man looked slightly alarmed. “Good morning, sir. My name is Krison and I am with the organiser. I am afraid you will not be allowed to take part in this protest.”

  Hashwini and Euu Ki exchanged looks of bewilderment. “But why?”

  “Please do not be offended. We are grateful for your show of support, but the police permit disallows foreigners to participate. As the organiser, we have to ensure that or we will get into trouble.”

  Both Hashwini and Euu Ki broke out into giggles. Euu Ki reached out to pinch the young man on his shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, darling. I am as indigenous as char kway teow. And as yummy too.”

  The young man flinched at Euu Ki’s touch but did his best to smile cordially. “In that case, please proceed to the area near the stage. If you will excuse me, I need to go around and usher the migrant workers out of the park. They have turned up in support of Migrant Workers Count Too and it is a pity but they are not allowed near the stage.”

  Hashwini pulled Euu Ki away from the young man and hissed fiercely, “Behave yourself or I swear I will call in the police on you.”

  “Ooi, do call in the hunky bugger on the standee. He can cuff me up and do to me whatever he pleases.”

  The two of them squeezed through the throng till they reached the foot of the stage. A well-dressed man in his thirties was addressing the crowd. He spoke with confidence and assurance, and his impeccable enunciation was evidence of the privileged education he might have received in some foreign institute of higher learning. The crowd listened intently, but there was a general lack of passion and vigour that one associated with political protests.

  “I know who this guy is.” Euu Ki nudged Hashwini and whispered.

  “Who is he?”

  “He is a corporate lawyer and a high-profile gay activist. His name is Kuan Eng. But what many people do not know is that his boyfriend is the son of a high-profile MP.”

  “Which one?” Hashwini’s eyes were rounded.

  “I am sorry, darling, but I can’t tell you,” Euu Ki said. “We in the gay community protect our own.”

  Hashwini shut her mouth and pretended to pay attention to the speaker on stage. She knew her best friend well enough to know that the most effective way to extract a secret out of him was to feign disinterest. And sure enough, it took all of two minutes to break the code of gay brotherhood.

  “Remember the SARS crisis ten years ago? There was a doctor who became a national hero because he identified the first SARS patient and single-handedly saved Singapore from annihilation. That’s the one.”

  “Who? The boyfriend?”

  “No! The father!” Euu Ki hissed irritably. “He subsequently ran for election and became an MP. You have got to brush up on your politics, girl!”

  Hashwini’s retort was buried beneath the spontaneous applause that erupted as the speech on stage came to an end. The corporate lawyer-cum-gay activist who was purportedly sleeping with the son of a high-profile MP thanked the crowd and introduced the next speaker. Omala Subramaniam was a well-known personality in the activist community. In her capacity as the director of Migrant Workers Count Too, she had done much to safeguard the interests of migrant workers against exploitation by seedy employers and the procedural stonewalling by the governmental bureaucracy. But today, Omala was speaking in her capacity as the blogger behind The Tornado.

  “Let’s give it up for Omala Subramaniam!”

  A deafening round of applause erupted as an Indian lady marched up to the stage. She was short in stature; the microphone stand was parallel to her forehead. Instead of adjusting the height of the stand, she plucked the microphone out of the clip-hold, stepped forward till she reached the edge and pointed back at the stand, “I am sorry but I can’t be near that thing. I am so angry right now that I might just grab that and smash it down on somebody’s head.”

  The audience responded with random laughter. Someone shouted the name of a person he thought Omala should aim the microphone stand at.

  “I was a sweet child who grew up to be an angry teenager. And it’s not because of the hormones—I became angry when I began to learn about all the cruelty, injustice and inhumanity that existed in the world I live in. I remember, back in secondary school I read an article in Life magazine about child brides in Yemen. Girls as young as five or six were betrothed to men twenty to forty years older. And some of these husbands did not wait to demand their conjugal rights. There were reports of physical and sexual abuse of these child brides, and miscarriages were not only common but often fatal.”

  “The same article listed the many countries that responded to a call from International Human Rights Watch to voice their opposition to the practice. And guess what? Singapore was not on the list.”

  The crowd began to boo, but Omala gesticulated at them to calm down.

  “This was back in the late seventies. We used to have this annual visit in my secondary school from either
a cabinet minister or member of parliament who would give motivational speeches and pep talks. I was first to the mike when it came time for the MP to answer questions. Referencing the Life magazine article, I asked why was Singapore not listed among the countries that had voiced their opposition to the practice of child brides. As you can imagine, the MP was embarrassed because he did not have an answer.”

  “Did the principal send you for detention after that?” someone in the audience shouted, eliciting some laughter.