Still Alive Or Not?
How It All Started — Secondary One 🥁🎺
We first met in Secondary One.
He was small-built, quiet, shy and, unfortunately for the rest of us, one of the top students in class.
Me?
His complete opposite.
Bigger-sized, loud-mouthed, kaypoh and definitely NOT designed to sit quietly in one corner!
Who would have thought we'd still be irritating each other 53 years later?
We were both in the school brass band.
He played the drums.
Me? Trumpet? Flute?
Please lah!
I played the BASS!
Even at thirteen, if I was going to make music, the whole school might as well hear it!
But it wasn't the music that brought us closer.
Every Saturday after band practice, instead of taking the bus, we walked several kilometres home together.
Neither family had much money. By saving our bus fares, we could pool our coins and share a portion of food.
No prize for guessing who got the bigger share!
Looking back, that little meal meant more than we realised.
There was no embarrassment about having little money. No looking down on each other. No need to explain.
We simply understood.
Two thirteen-year-olds walking home, sharing food and unknowingly building a friendship that would last more than half a century.
Of course, we weren't thinking about lifelong friendship then.
We were probably just hungry!
And 53 years later, our favourite greeting?
“Still alive or not?”
“Still Alive Or Not?”
After 53 years of friendship, perhaps we've run out of polite greetings.
He never asks, “How have you been?”
Instead…
Classmate: “Meeting me or not? Don't wait until I lie in the grave then come and see me.”
Recently, things got even worse.
Classmate: “Meet when? At my funeral ah?”
Me: “Maybe at mine.”
Classmate: “No way.”
Me: “Why?”
Classmate: “Good people die faster.”
Silence.
Aunty's brain needed three seconds to process that.
Me: “WAIT! Good people die faster?”
Classmate: “Yah.”
Me: “And you say you won't die before me?”
Another pause.
“OIIII! WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY ABOUT ME?!”
That's 53 years of friendship for you.
No sweet words. No sentimental speeches.
Just insults disguised as concern.
And somehow, we understand each other perfectly.
Funny… Until You Think About It
“Meet when? At my funeral ah?”
I laughed. Just another one of our usual nonsense exchanges.
But sometimes, jokes like that quietly tug at my heart.
We keep putting things off.
Not today lah. Next time. Another day.
We assume there will always be another chance.
Until one day, even a simple meal, a silly conversation or someone irritating us becomes a memory we wish we could revisit.
Perhaps that's why, after 53 years, “Still alive or not?” doesn't sound so rude anymore.
Sometimes it simply means…
“I'm still here. You still there?”
From Quiet Student to… What Happened to You?
When I first knew him, he was quiet, sensible and studious.
Very normal.
Fifty-three years later…
Me: “What happened to you?”
Classmate: “What?”
Me: “Last time you very quiet one leh.”
Classmate: “And?”
Me: “Never mind. Maybe knowing me for 53 years caused permanent damage.”
That would explain a lot!
But beneath all the nonsense, some things haven't changed.
He still remembers where I'm going.
He still worries whether I'll get lost.
He just has a very strange way of showing it.
Which brings us to one WhatsApp message…
“Mdm mong chacha… u ok?”
So He Came to Me
Maybe he knew that if he waited for me to travel across Singapore, he might really have to wait until his funeral!
So last week, he came all the way to my neighbourhood just to meet me for makan and a good chat.
No grand announcement. No sentimental speech.
Just an old friend making the effort.
And at this age, I appreciate little gestures like that more than ever.
After 53 years, perhaps friendship isn't about grand occasions.
Sometimes it's simply about who still makes the effort to show up.
Of course, the moment we sat down, all that appreciation disappeared.
We went straight back to insulting each other!
No flowery speeches. No “best friends forever.”
Just two old classmates, sitting together, talking rubbish as though nothing had changed.
Some friendships say, “I care about you.”
Ours says…
“Still alive or not?”
Fifty-Three Years Later…
Recently, Classmate asked me:
“Oui, after your surgery you always stay at home like a mountain tortoise. Not good for your health leh. What do you do to pass time?”
Excuse me?!
MOUNTAIN TORTOISE?!
Some things never change!
He's still working while I'm already retired, so our daily routines are quite different.
I told him I spend my time working on my travel blog — digging through old photographs, recalling forgotten incidents and turning them into stories.
Little did he know…
HE HAS NOW BECOME PART OF THE STORY!
After 53 years, perhaps that's his punishment for calling me a mountain tortoise!
Looking back, I realise something.
At thirteen, we walked kilometres together to save enough bus fare for a shared meal.
Today, he nags me about staying home too much.
Different age. Different circumstances.
Same old friend.
And naturally…
Still the same lousy mouth!
“Mountain tortoise” indeed!
From Travel Blog to Crime Scene
Classmate: “Still alive or not?”
Me: “Alive lah. Disappointed ah?”
Classmate: “Just checking.”
Me: “Careful hor. I take photos of EVERYTHING.”
Classmate: “Why?”
Me: “Evidence.”
Classmate: “Your blog is called WWLLEE, right?”
Me: “Yah. Walk Walk LLee.”
Classmate: “Then why you always threaten to write about me?”
Me: “Because if you keep irritating me, WWLLEE will have a new meaning.”
Classmate: “What meaning?”
Me: “Wonder Who Looks Like Escaping Eventually!”
Classmate: “…”
Me: “OI! WHERE'S YOUR SUPERMAN CAPE?!”
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