Wednesday, June 18, 2008 . 12:56 PM

Moving house


The boy looked out of the airplane window. It was twilight, and the world outside the window (he had the window seat) was dark, save for a few twinking lights which came from the plane wing and a long row of faraway, little lights which represented the airport. Adjusting his position in the soft Emirates seat, he looked at the touch-screen monitor, decided against playing games, and reflected on the past few months leading up to the current point in the History of John Bannikins, himself.

John Bannikins had a Singaporean father and an aussie mom who met one day in Sydney. His father was on a self- treated holiday to Brisbane while his mother was on a business trip- to Brisbane- she lived in Sydney. So the two new aqquainteces took the 10-hour train there, ad got to know each other very well indeed. His father decided to prolong his stay for a few years (conviniently forgetting his kin back in Singapore), and kind Monica, his future wife, rented him a room in her little Sydney flat. And John came along.

Deciding that the little flat could not hold two adults and a noisy baby who would grow in time, Monica suggested buying a proper big house back in Brisbane. Hank agreed; both he and his wife liked the place.

Little John grew, and soon he was 3 years old. He had learnt rather alot of language now, due to Hank's 'kiasu' Singaporean upbringing. Hank usually rode to the local mart in a bicycle with John in tow, and when admiring people came by he would proudly say, 'John's a little marvel. John, show them what you've got.' Whereby John recited the entire alphabet (and got 'C' wrong)and did a 1 to 5 times table, and of course, called Hank 'Dad'. The admirer would clap and go away, wisfullf wishing that he had a son like that. John's life was very fun-filled and happy till then.

However Hank was finally called back by his parents. They demanded him to be fillal and bond with them again. So he had to go back. Monica wanted to go to; she couldn't live without him. 'But what about John?' said Hank. So John was given a choice. Not really understanding, he gurgled like a baby and said, 'Australia good. Me like.' So his parents left him in the care of Cook, the housekeeper, a kindly- looking nanny in her old age, the stable man, and the horse Clover and the dog named Stud, taken from the place it was found outside as a little pup.

So for six years John played with Stud, rode on Clover, chatted with Nanny, persuaded the stable-man to let him help in cleaning and feeding Clover, and generally grew up somewhat. And the only sign that he had parents was the annual birthday- cum- christmas present. Which was usually rather lavish.

Until the telephone call came. John was slumped in a big armchair which dwarfed him, and when he heard the bring-bring noise customary of the house's antique 'phone he jumped up to answer it. 'Mom! Dad! ' and after he put the phone down after a rather lengthy discussion which involved most of the house's human occupants and much distress, he flopped down into the big armchair and sighed. On one hand he was elated to finally see his parents once again, but on the other he was to leave friends, the house, and Clover behind. God sure loved torturing people, he thought.

over the course of the next few months the furniture were moved, John's luggage was packed, and the house and Clover were sold. On the day the new owner came to take her away, he went to the stable to look at her for the last time. 'I'll miss you, Clover.' he said, and put his cheek against her long face. She snorted, and rubbed her face up and down his cheek, as though to comfort him. Big tears rolled down from his eyes, and dripped onto Clover's nose. Then the new owner came.

He was a short, stuttering artist fellow who looked at the mare with an expert eye. 'I'll take her, then.' he said. And he signed his name on a dotted line of the consent form. John peeped under his armpit and saw the words,' Shel Siverstein. 'Mr Shel', he called after the retreating figure leading Clover. He turned. 'Promise me that you'll take good care of her.' Shel Siverstein look at John. 'I...I..I p..proomise.' John was reassured, and hugged him . Mr Shel seemed to have a surprised look. Then he turned back and walked out of the house compounds.

John Bannikins lay down on the bed and cried for a long while.

Finally it was the Day itself. The occupants of the house all carried luggages out and excanged tearful goodbyes; after all there was now no longer any master they had to serve and they were unemployed. But first- they ensured that John was well and safe in the taxi before going their own separate ways.

John was in the taxi for another four hours and slept the hours away. When he woke up Sydney Airport was looming in front of him. The driver stopped and unloaded his cargo.

At the airport check-in counter there was a big, friendly lady. John automatically walked forward when the person in front of him walked off. 'John Bannikins. Hmmm. Travelling alone?' John nodded. 'Brave boy you are, eh?' John gave a weak smile. She reached over the counter and ruffled his hair. 'Have a safe journey.'

John awoke from his trance on the plane. The plane was moving now, and John saw a rather stupid video that told him about the safety aspects of the plane and the wonderful gadgets of his business-class seat.

When the plane touched down John got off and collected his baggage and dog carrier. Stud licked his face through the metal grille. He dumped his baggage onto a cart nearby with a kind soul assisting and wheeled the cart out of the luggage collection and into the wating arms of his father and mother. 'Welcome to Singapore, son.' John smiled at his father and higged him tightly.