Singaporean.

Yesterday, was National Day.

After a round-island early morning ride with my groupie, I sat in the heart of town at my favorite place, the spot i always go to whenever I feel happy, sad, bored or when I feel I need to be inspired.

A sea of red and white was all I could see. Red, the colour of our national flag, and the colour of hearts, of love. White, the colour of purity.

Everyone was decked in red. Parents held children waving flags. Couples in matching national day shirts held hands. Children with national day flags tattooed onto their cheeks held onto special treats. Everyone was glowing red. It was nice to see, to realize that after all, we do have a heart for our nation.

People often say we are a nation focused solely on efficiency- where are our hearts? Where is our sense of compassion?

You would not believe it. Yesterday, just as I was walking out of the train station in town, I saw Yvonne, again.

Two encounters in four days. After 3 years.

I sighed, almost in resignation and surprise and surrender, at God’s orchestration of too-much-of-a coincidence.

“Yvonne,” I called out.

She didn’t turn around immediately. I gently held her arm.

“Hey.” I smiled.

And she turned around, smiling at me. This time, she was in a dark blue shirt and smelling much better. She was jittery, stammering, and I realized, that she was hypoglycemic. “Have you eaten?” I asked her.

Standing outside a bakery, with the sweet fragrance of buns and muffins wafting through the air, she said, “I want. I want coffee and warm toast. Can?”

“Okay,” I said. I had less than ten dollars in my wallet. “What’s your real name? I mean, your chinese name?”

“Siok, siok Lan,” she said. Her voice was unsteady and her eyes were all over the place.

Two muffins, one coffee, and one pork floss bun later, we were at the cashier when the cashier ladies suddenly called out after her, “Hey! Come back! That’s not yours!”

I had paid. Yvonne had taken her coffee. And the cashier ladies had thought she had taken off with what was mine.

“No,” I explained. “I’m paying. That is our coffee.”

Walking through the crowd and sitting amidst the throng by myself later that day, I began to ask myself what kind of nation we are growing into. One that is obsessed about becoming stronger and bigger and better by the day, or one with a crimson heart, with a white-hot love for the underprivileged, the elderly and those by the wayside. As we progress and claim happiness, peace and prosperity for our country, do we also remember justice, equality and love?

I sat there watching the red and white crowd. I stood there watching Yvonne in blue, clamouring for the warm muffins, desperately looking for a place to sit down. “Thank you hah.”

And I learnt, that for all our love for our nation, this tiny place oozing of practicality, efficiency and pragmatism, our love can best be expressed, not merely by the red and white worn on our sleeves, but by the red and white in our hearts- love and purity.

Yvonne, is Singaporean, too.

Happy 46th birthday, Singapore.