It had been a good time of working out with my friend. I had just gotten off the train at Jurong and was currently rushing for one of the last few buses to Seven Star Aquarium. After all, I would've liked to avoid paying for a cab home on midnight charge if I could.
There, as I waited in line, planning the loaches I would buy to feast upon my snaily denizens, I heard a plaintive voice call out to me in Mandarin. She had a distinctive Malaysian accent. I turned around to see a disheveled middle-aged woman, encumbered by a large bag of what I could only assume were her belongings. It would appear that she was fresh from some village or rural part of Malaysia on her way to work.
Two expressions dominated her worn features: Fear and Panic.
Fumbling over words and on the verge of tears, she asked if I could contact her friend to pick her up from the interchange. The bus from Johor Bahru to Jurong had been severely delayed and she had now missed the final train to her lodging. She had just discovered that all her local currency had been stolen as well.
Momentarily, xenophobia and a cautiousness borne from one too many con-artists kicked in. I contemplated ignoring her and continuing my way - only three people were left in line boarding the bus. After all, I really had much better and more important things to do (like buying those loaches) than to babysit someone who couldn't even take care of her own personal belongings. Who knew if she was even telling the truth?
Perhaps it was the Divine pricking my conscience, or perhaps it was something in her demeanor, but I relented. There was no harm in dialing a simple number. So, I did.
The nervous energy she radiated was strong. She uttered a quick "Thank you" and took my phone to banter with her to-be saviour. Her expression of relief quickly fell to one of despair and resignation.
He was not coming.
Her only alternative, now, was to remain at the interchange by her lonesome till 6AM.
That wouldn't do. It wasn't safe for a woman to be alone for hours past midnight. I offered to call her a cab to fetch her home. She immediately refused, apologising profusely and stating that she had imposed far too much on me already.
But it was not safe. A group of men, reeking of alchohol, had gathered in a distance to watch our exchange. Grabbing her bag, I marched her over to the station's taxi stand. She wrung her hands and confessed that this was her first time in Singapore. In the corner of my eye, I saw the group of men following us. Was that a glint of metal?
Change of plans.
"Why don't we go to JEM's taxi stand? There'll be more cabs there." I offered in faltering Mandarin.
We swiftly made our way to where a group of cabbies were dozing in their vehicles. There, a security guard was making his rounds. The group of men paused before they turned around and ambled away. I ushered her into the cab and paid the driver. With the instructions to deliver her to her place safely given, he drove off.
I do wonder though...
...what could have happened if I had just ignored her and gotten onto the bus? Or, perhaps, an alternate reality where my mother, or my sister, or a woman dear to me had been in this situation.
What could have happened then?
Alas, who has time to consider such trivial matters? I have loaches to buy.
