The year was 1990. We just moved to Singapore. Here I found the life was very much open up to the nature, and more disciplined. Each day was an experience for me while exploring the Singapore. As our children were studying in the primary school, I had plenty of time to get to know the places around — and one of my friends who stayed nearby used to accompany me sometimes. "Hi Banoo! Our Tamil New Year is fast approaching, and we need to buy the fruits and fresh vegetables for Vishu. Shall we go to Tekka Market?" my friend asked. (Vishu means the prosperity — we have a custom on the New Year's day to close our eyes and our first vision should be on the fruits, jewelleries in the prayer room which was kept in front of the mirror. That indicates that the whole year would be prosperous for all.) That day sweet and savouries would be prepared; the raw mangoes were cooked with brown sugar so as to accept our life with the same as sweet and sour. I too was very keen in going, as I heard that Tekka was a big famous market. We had taken the Bus 197. Travelling in the bus or taking the MRT (Mass Rapid Transit) gave us an experience of mingling with the multi-national people; and for me it was definitely a different learning experience of understanding the peoples' daily affairs. Hence, if I find any time left, I used to take up a bus or MRT to go anywhere as it was interesting to watch the people as well. ** We reached the Serangoon Road, and the Tekka Market was just at the foot-step of the bus stand. The market was originally located between the Hastings Road and the Sungei Road, and initially was called as Tek Kia Kah in Malay language, which means the foot of the small bamboos. We understand that in 1920s the small bamboo plants were growing in the Rochor Canal. Then the place was called Tekka Bazaar, as bazaar means market. Wow! So many fruit shops, flower shops, vegetable shops and butcher shops were nicely situated in the rows. I could see lots of people carrying their carts and buying things in bulk. The lush green vegetables caught my sight, and we proceeded there. The shopkeeper was an old Chinese (may be in his 70s) who was busy selling the vegetables to other customers. I could see the broad beans, shiny capsicums, fresh cabbages, lengthy drumsticks, purple brinjals. Pink onions, tender cucumbers, red tomatoes, bright potatoes, straight snake gourds, ash gourds, pumpkins, french beans, carrots, cauliflowers, cluster of chillies, leafy spinach, and the raw mangoes. In another corner the fruits like mangoes, apples, bananas, oranges, papayas, pine apple and rambutans were kept. No wonder, this market contained everything but the parents! I noticed that so many people were coming to that particular shop, as the Chinese man seemed to be very friendly with them. He looked fat and typical with his Singlish, and handled the customers with his wild laughter too! He generously gave the lush green coriander and curry leaves as free to all the people. * I have to say something here. I always tempt to buy fresh vegetables or fruits. There is a saying — "Pay to the merchants than to the doctor," which means avoid going to the doctor by eating healthy food; hence buying the fresh vegetables and fruits will let you lead a healthy life. "Hi Banoo! Look at the raw mangoes — fresh and big. Let us buy it," my friend insisted. I just looked at the price. $2 for three mangoes! I told her in our language, "See, this old man (kizhavan) must be greedy and the price for the mangoes is too much. I will certainly do bargain" — saying that I asked him, "We would like to buy these mangoes, but your price is so high! If you give five mangoes for $2, we would go for it"… The Chinese man pierced me through his looks and said: "Hmm! I am not greedy, ma'am, and for sure my price is quite reasonable. May be I can give you four. Your demand is too much and I won't have profit if I give five for $2." * Oh, my God! Believe me — he spoke to me in our language Tamil very clearly, and I was almost going to faint and speechless. And further he said: "Madam, everybody grows older day by day, and has to become kizhavan (old man) or kizhavi (old lady) at one stage." What? Did he slap me on my cheeks? I felt very bad for the comments and I apologised. I said sorry. * What a big lesson he taught me! It is important to think before we speak or comment. Yes — I was taught that words are most powerful that create an impact, and we have to ascertain that we should use the words that uplift someone and not put them down. A scar lasts longer than a single sorry! So we have to be gentle with our words. I never forget this incident.* When I conclude, I want to mention here that the friend who accompanied me is no more now — and the shopkeeper is also no more. But whenever I visit the Tekka Market, that day comes to my memory, and reminds of speaking gently with everyone. — Banooravi