Chinese New Year

In recent years, Chinese new year has become a festival i dread. Given the choice, i would rather be back in the comfort of my guard rest bunk, slogging out at duty, than face the irritating questions asked during chinese new year, and of course, wishing other people well when the intent is not meant from the heart.

This was not the case when i was young. Then, all festivals are occasions for feasting and playing, and of course Chinese New Year has the added benefit of injecting cash into the starving piggy bank. True, irritating questions existed back then too, but a child generally do not take such matters to heart.

Look what Chinese New Year has become now. A chance for professors to pile heaps on work on our pathetic bodies and souls, a chance for hypocrites to showcase their talents, to engage in shallow talks, those of formality and well wishes. A good occasion to go on insane shoppings, to break those fragile arms and legs, and to engage in menial tasks that includes everything from painting the walls to scrubbing the yucky toilets.

And what about the aftermath of chinese new year? The clearing up of all the nuts, the sweets, the foods that nobody wants to touch. The guilt of putting on sinful pounds, and the honour of playing hosts to the germs and bacteria that cause sore throats.

A festive season? Not an apt description after all.