The King And I

Today is the Muslim festival of Eid-ul-Fitr. Only a few days ago it was the Hindu festival of Deepavali. I called my dear friend in Kolkata and wished her "Happy Deepavali" on Saturday but the line was cut off while we were in conversation and her mobile was off when I redialled.

Since the weekend, we were determined to join in official Eid-ul-Fitr celebrations since we have not done it before. After a late breakfast, my family and I drove to the Palace. It is not far from my place and I often see many tourists and tourist buses at the main entrance. All one can see normally are some of the foot soldiers, cavalry, and the nice gate. No access is allowed and the buildings are up a hill, hidden by trees and other plants so I don’t actually know what the tourists are so excited about. The horses, I suppose, get their photos taken a lot and have to put up with much patting.

We arrived near the Palace about half an hour after the official start of the Open House. We parked about 10mins walking distance away (didn’t know that the traffic police would later make more places available for parking closer to the main entrance). It was fun to join in the excitement. We saw some people being turned away, including foreign backpackers, for inappropriate attire. I wonder at people sometimes. Don’t they realise that they are going to a royal residence rather than the beach?

Well, anyway, after some waiting we all shook hands with the King, Queen, Prince and Princess who were there to welcome all visitors and I heard the King repeat, “Thank you for coming” to the people while the rest smiled. I noticed the Princess’ make-up was melting in the heat, but her coiffure was still intact, probably due to much hair spray. I wanted to snap a photo of the King after I passed but one of the guards on duty politely asked me not to. So, most people pretended to take photos of each other with the Royals in the background (I imagine most of our photos of them would not turn out well since they were in the shadow of the porch). Anyway, we got the goodies and had a view of the front garden. I can now say I have visited the King’s official residence. I have met the King and shaken hands with him and his family!

Later in the day, we went to the Prime Minister’s Open House. This was not at his residence but the World Trade Centre. The Prime Minister and some other ministers with their spouses were there to shake hands and welcome visitors. The Education Minister's wife smiled very prettily at me and I thought she could feature in some shampoo advertisement. She is tall and lovely with nice locks.

We went much later than the rest so most of the crowd had left. Unfortunately, the much-coveted delicacies were gone too. I do not mean there was little food left. Far from it! We arrived two hours before the closing and there was still plenty of food. I expect there would have been a lot of leftovers. However, certain types of gourmet cuisine, including the ones the PM got his own chef to prepare, were nowhere to be seen when I was getting my food from the big hall with over ten long rows of tables filled with food.
After getting the food, we proceeded to another big hall filled with round tables for us to eat. We sat with two Malay Muslim ladies and a small boy. They were very friendly and talkative. Apparently, they have been to various Open Houses before in the past, and were also at the Palace earlier. We shared experiences. The younger lady, who was probably in her twenties, could not hold back her curiosity and asked my father, “Excuse me, but are you an actor?” She said that he looked very much like an actor in a drama series. She really thought it was he and even asked again later in the conversation to reconfirm the negative. I wonder if she is a fan of that actor. My father is the same age as Pierce Brosnan, though not in the same league, of course. When I think about how MANY female admirers Pierce Brosnan (or Sean Connery!) still have, it is really possible.

The young lady was really curious about us and asked me, “How old are you? 17?” I did not roll my eyes because I am getting used to this. Perhaps I would really appreciate it when I am much older. They were taken aback by my real age, then looked to my parents and asked for their individual ages as well. I was thinking that this wass rather direct for a first time encounter. They were astonished and said they thought my parents were a least 10 years younger than they were. The young lady (bless her funny and direct talkative tendency) remarked that perhaps if my parents had more children, they would look older. I tried picturing people my parents’ age who have many children. Do they really look older? Maybe it is just genetics?