A moment ago there was a torrential rain. Lightning struck interminably, like lvl 4 arc lightning striking up to 15 enemies at one time. It was one of the largest storm that I have seen in Singapore, of course, it is merely a storm in a teacup compared to the hurricanes that the Carribean have experienced.

There is this tree that I almost could touch outside my bedroom window at the seventh floor. It was dancing, or more explicitly, fighting the strong wind that was trying to pull it down. Suddenly, I wondered how I would feel if I were a resident of the tree, dependent on its shelter and convinced all my life that nothing can shake such a huge tree. With the storm, it would change my perspective of the tree as an impregnable shelter as I clinched on to its branches just like Jack and Rose clinch onto the stern of Titanic as the water's upthrust on it slowly decreases. The psychological trauma must be devastating. Leaves overturned, neighbour' nest fell to the car below, smashing all the eggs that she has painstakingly protected for six month.

Back to reality, I am safe and sound behind the protective glass of my window and the cemented bricks of the flat wall. The storm would only leave a panel of wet glass, some flooding here and there in the flat. The lightning can never strike me, for it has to strike the lightning protection needle on the roof.

I wondered how it would be like if I were instead living in the attap house of the past when such a storm struck. The roof must be blown apart, house flooded to knee level and after that all the friendly neighbourhood insects coming into the house for respite when theirs are flooded. It must be super shan nao jing to get the water out of the house, repair the roof, and trying to get your neighbours away from your wet clothes in cupboards, meanwhile trying to keep the lights dry before nightfall.

Fortunately, we don't have this kind of thrills these days. Unfortunately, we don't have this kind of thrills these days, to toughen our character and cope with such adversities.

Leaking roof? Write a complaint letter to the housing board.

In our comfort, to what extent can we empathise with the Tsunami victims, Katrina homeless, Kashmier quake-distressed people as we watch them on news? Gone were the kampong spirit, cultivated not only by having fun together, but also toiling through hard times hand in hand. We take what we are endowed with for granted, and it is inevitable for we grew up in safe times and in a safe country.

Now that the rain have stopped, the sky never seemed so beautifully blue. It must have been a genuine relief for the residents of the tree, now learnt the skills of survival in a storm, and so have the tree. It will henceforth grow its roots deeper and branch less to reduce surface area.

Thankfully, we have the NS to take us out of comfort zone after 18 years of it, waking us up from the utopia we have been living in. Meanwhile, let the girls continue living in their king koil mattresses and hide in their rooms when the storms befall while we get despatched to disaster areas picking up fingers and pelvic bones. ha.