Where the past meets the present

The new year started with a fresh chapter for us—a new house, a new neighborhood, a new beginning. It wasn’t an easy decision, though. Countless family conversations revolved around the move. The kids resisted, clinging to the comfort zone of their childhood—the streets they knew like the back of their hands, the park where they’d spent endless evenings, and the friends who felt like extensions of family. I couldn’t blame them. It was their world, their safe haven. And yet, we chose to move.

Practicality won. The new place would save my daughter an hour of commuting time to school every day. Still, the mom in me wrestled with guilt. Guilt for uprooting my kids from the home that had been their anchor. Guilt for walking away from the past and the familiar connections that had shaped our lives. Deep down, I wondered if we were leaving behind more than just walls and a house. Were we leaving behind a part of ourselves?

To break the monotony of unpacking, we decided to explore the neighborhood. Just two minutes from our new home, we stumbled upon a lush green park—a hidden gem. 🌳 Tall trees shaded the winding paths, joggers jogging, elderly couples leisurely strolling, and dogs playfully running around in the open green field, their tails wagging with joy. It felt alive.

And then, amidst the greenery, I spotted something unusual—a relic. At first, it seemed like a random piece of forgotten architecture, but curiosity drew us closer. What we discovered took my breath away.

Buried under the grass and trees, hidden in plain sight, were the remnants of Fort Tanjong Katong. Built by the British in 1879, abandoned in 1901, and eventually buried, this fort was a piece of history we had unknowingly moved right next to. 🏰

As we stood on this ground steeped in the past, I learned that during the final months of World War II, the charismatic leader of the Indian National Army (INA), Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose, lived just around the corner, at 61 Meyer Road.

The INA fought to liberate India from British rule, and suddenly, my mind flooded with memories of my childhood. I thought of my grandfather’s older brother—I had met him as a child. He had shown me a medal he was awarded by the Indian government for his contributions as an INA soldier during World War II. That medal gleamed with pride, a tangible piece of history that he carried in his hands and heart.

Excited, I called my father and shared my discovery. To my astonishment, he unearthed a photograph of my grandfather’s brother—a black-and-white treasure from the war. There he was, sitting tall and proud in his INA uniform, somewhere in Singapore! To think that he may have walked the very streets where I now stood! He could have spent days in this very neighborhood, perhaps gazing at the same skies, breathing the same air. It was as if time folded in on itself, connecting my present to his past.

My heart swelled with exhilaration. Here I was, thinking we had left the past behind, but instead, we had walked straight into its embrace. I shared the story with my children, telling them about their great-granduncle and his bravery. What started as a reluctant move now felt like a profound reconnection. It was as though my ancestors were saying, Welcome home.

This discovery reminded me that we never truly know what we’re missing until we step beyond the boundaries of our comfort zones.

I had worried about leaving behind familiarity, but life had a surprise waiting for me—an unexpected reunion with the past.

As we settle into our new home, ready to create fresh memories, I feel the quiet presence of the past blessing us. It’s as if my grandfather and his brother are smiling from above, reminding me that new beginnings often carry pieces of the old with them.

To anyone hesitating to take a bold step into the unknown, let me say this: the past is never truly lost. It’s waiting for you, sometimes in ways you can’t even imagine.

Here’s to a year of new discoveries, old connections, and the courage to step forward.

Until next time ❤️