Raffles Place Grass

I remember growing up watching the business news featuring Raffles Place as the backdrop with throngs of office workers walking past. (I know they still show it on television, but childhood images were wired into our brains)

I wanted to be part of that crowd walking there, with the green green grass as the backdrop.

To me - and I believe for many others, the lovely green turfs were the holy grail of the corporate world. And I often thought to myself: "Wow, that’s where real adult people work! Bankers and businessmen - they work on the grass!"

So after graduation, I got my first real job offer (my office was located in Raffles Place). I never hesitated and signed the offer letter, very eager to start work. I wanted to be near to that green Raffles Place grass.

During my lunchtime on my first day, I asked my colleagues if they wanted to join me to visit the green grass area. They shot me a quizzing look.

You smoke?
- Er, no…why?
Only smokers go there.
-Oh.

So I mumbled some excuse and went alone to the legendary grass site.


It was sore sight. Yesterday’s TODAY was ripped and strewn over the grass like the remains of gazelle’s carcass. Cigarette butts are snubbed on the seat ledge and god knows what have been left over the years. I saw a retiree smearing his slimy snot onto the seat (I vow never to see on that spot anymore).

My memory of the grass images called out to me. I reached out and felt the grass. It felt dry and prickly, a rude comparison to the soft, velvety carpet grass caress that I had imagined.

In my disappointment, I noticed that the grass had a yellowish tinge.
The grass was not green anymore. Or maybe they were never green in the first place.