It's Easy to Cry

by Subhas Anandan

  Vimi would always tell me, “Be brave, think of positive things. Just know that your glass is half full and not half empty. We are here with you and I will never leave you. We will always take care of you. Don’t be afraid to fight this fight.” Sometimes when I am down, I feel like no one understands me. I don’t know why but I feel insecure and afraid that Vimi would leave me although deep within me, I know she will always be with me. When I am alone in my room or alone attempting to read a book, negative depressing thoughts would creep into my mind and that whole day is ruined.

  It has been a very trying time for all of us but I must say that I am definitely feeling better and slowly accepting my condition and new way of life.

  Subhas with his siblings on his birthday, December 2006. From left: Chechy, Sugadha and Sudheesh.

  On some dialysis days, I get visits from dear friends like Ann (Vimi’s best friend), Choo Poh Leong and Julia (friends from my teenage years), or Ah Teng and Ramli (my childhood friends). They always encourage and cheer me up. I truly appreciate their visits. With the help of constant medical discussions and assurances of good doctors like Professor Ong Biauw Chi, Associate Professor Ching Chi Keong, Dr Manish Kaushik together with Chechy, my brothers-in-law, Dr A Nalachandran and Dr Bhaskaran K Nair, I have begun coping better with dialysis. I have settled into a routine that allows me to go back to office on days that I don’t have to go for dialysis as my heart is getting stronger with the help of the CRTD. I have found myself in the right frame of mind to start this book and dictate whenever I can.

  They say that in any incident, there will always be a silver lining. To me, my illness has made me a more realistic person, one who realises that in the past, I got all my priorities wrong. It was my career first, my career second, and my career third. I didn’t make time for my wife and son. I didn’t make time for my siblings and I didn’t make time for my other relatives and very close friends. These are the people who are now with me through my difficult times. My sister-in-law, Komi, her husband, Nara, and their three children, gave me so much moral support and encouragement through this difficult time. I feel quite blessed that I have people like them with me. Of course, my other sister-in-law, Nan, her husband, Nala, and their family, were always there for me, too. As is often with expectations, it doesn’t surprise me that they are there, but sometimes you also wonder why some are not. It really doesn’t matter. It is in the time of crises that you know who your friends truly are.

  With dear friend Choo Poh Leong.

  TWO

  THE PASSING OF DEAR FRIENDS

  After I wrote The Best I Could, many events happened in my life, one of which was the loss of many a dear friend.

  “Botak Maniam”, also endearingly called “Tata” (grandfather in Tamil), was the only grandfather that I knew who was young at heart and had so much compassion for his friends.

  We first met at Naval Base School where we were studying. I was in the primary level and he was in the secondary level. He was then House Captain and a great sprinter. I admired his athletic abilities. Later he joined the Naval Base Police Force and retired as an officer.

  It is somewhat strange that despite our age difference, we got along so well. He was a man of few words, always like an older brother to me, and incredibly dependable. We enjoyed each other’s company and as we got older, we often indulged in card games, especially poker which he loved to play.

  In his twilight years, he became seriously ill and was warded at Singapore General Hospital. Regrettably, I was told that I should not visit him as my immunity level was low from a recent illness. I felt miserable and anxious. Knowing that my dear friend Botak Maniam was so sick and I was unable to visit him, made me feel helpless with despair. Some time after that, one of our friends rang me and said that he was coming by to pick me up. He told me that Botak Maniam had passed away and he was taking me to his wake as the funeral was scheduled for the next day. I was all shaken up and despite being ill myself, I decided that I had to go especially if someone was making the effort to take me there.

  When we arrived at Botak Maniam’s home, I saw my dear friend lying in the coffin, looking so peaceful. I stood beside the coffin for a long while. His son, who was aware of my health condition, brought a chair and insisted that I sat down. I looked at Botak Maniam and thought, “This is going to be hard. I will miss you dearly.” Unable to hold back any longer, I burst into tears. Friends who were near by, and who knew of my relationship with him, held my hand and assured me that he was finally at peace.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off Botak Maniam because seeing him brought back so many fond memories. I thought about the happy carefree days we shared with other friends in the Base and how we had grown old together. All I could do was just stare at him and think to myself then, “He was greater than anyone I ever knew.” I will miss him forever.

  Another dear and true friend whom I lost soon after that was Anthony Heng. He was someone I had mentioned in my earlier book. Sadly, he had cancer of the throat, like his father and brother. He suffered slowly and terribly and finally, he lost his voice.

  By the time I visited him with Vimi at Tan Tock Seng Hospital, he was already unable to speak. However, that didn’t dampen his spirits. He was very pleased to see us and greeted us with a broad smile. The memory of that smile is still lodged in my mind and it is a wonderful memory of a loving and caring friend whom I could always turn to for help. He held my hand for a long time and was deep in thought. I could see that he wanted to say so much to me. Then he took a notebook and wrote to my wife, “Look after him well and don’t worry about anything. I will be waiting for him in the next world because, wherever he is, I will be there and I will take care of him.” Vimi looked at him with glazed eyes and said, “I wish you well. I know that you are Subhas’s dear good friend and that you will do whatever you can for him.” I looked at him, unable to believe that Anthony was leaving us.

  We visited him a few more times. Each time, he would hold my hand and look at me contentedly as though comforted by my presence. My being there was enough for him. Each time, I would hold back my tears until I reached the car when I would break down and cry. Vimi would console me and on one occasion, she said, “I understand how much he means to you. But you have to let him go.” I replied, “No one will understand how good a friend he has been, unless you have been in prison with him.”

  KS Rajah was a State Counsel, Judicial Commissioner and, most importantly, he was my friend and fellow Senior Consultant at Harry Elias Partnership from 2000 to 2007. His room was next to mine and quite often, we found ourselves chatting and lunching together. There were times when he liked to argue on the law of criminal jurisprudence. I found that his arguments sometimes were not applicable to today’s context but would be applicable in time to come. He was a farsighted man with old ideas, some of which were never respected. However, I always considered them with the greatest of respect.

  We used to spend a lot of time with former Judicial Commissioner Amarjit Singh, who was then a Senior Consultant with KhattarWong. We would go for lunch and enjoy many spirited discussions on the law.

  KS Rajah fell ill and when he was dying in hospital, he asked to see me. I went with my nephew, Sunil, and saw his family there. When he heard my voice, he sat up and said, “Ah, I am so glad you are here.” I said, “I tried to come earlier but security did not let me in,” and he laughed. He told his family, “You know, there’s something about this guy. He always makes me think. Whenever I talk to him, he makes me think.” Everybody laughed. Then he turned to his son, Suressh, who is a good friend of mine and a partner of Harry Elias Partnership, and said, “Look here, you are not interested in criminal law and neither is anybody in our family. So all my criminal law books, put them in a box and give it to Subhas. I bequeath them to him because I know he will make good use of them.” I was so touched and almost broke down in tears. He asked me to sit by his side and held my hand. Squeezing it as tightly as he could, he said softly to me, “Look afte
r your health. You are not healthy yourself, you know.” In a near breaking voice, I assured him, “Yes, I will.”

  As I walked out of the room with Sunil, my eyes welled up with tears. All I could think of was how I came to know this great man and now he was leaving us soon, but I was glad that I had the last few moments with him.

  In this book, I am sharing with you all my feelings very candidly about what I have gone through and practically baring my soul. Through these crises, I have learnt to cope with life better and face my greatest fears instead of rolling over and playing dead. I have this desire to fight to live, not for myself, but for my wife, my son, siblings and all others who are also dear to me. I am not ready to go. Today I am not worrying about what is going to happen tomorrow because I am not even sure whether there will be a tomorrow.

  THREE

  A CARING TEACHER

  The first case worthy of mention is Public Prosecutor vs Shanti d/o Krishnansamy, involving a teacher who was charged for amending some of her students’ answers in the Primary School Leaving Examination (PSLE).

  Shanti was charged and pleaded guilty to three charges, punishable under section 468 of the Penal Code. Those offences took place on 5 October 2007. The presiding examiner of the school had erroneously appointed her to be the invigilator for her own class. It had never been the practice for the teacher of the class to invigilate his or her own students.

  I give special mention to this case as it shows that there is no compassion at times from the prosecution. This teacher was asked to invigilate her own students. She saw some of the mistakes they made in an important life-defining exam. She was so shocked because some of the mistakes were so simple that she decided to amend them herself without realising the gravity of her actions. Not being in a right frame of mind at the time, she used her own blue pen and did not even try to copy the handwriting of her students. All she thought of was to rectify the simple, glaring errors.

  Of course, she was found out because there was no attempt made to hide the fact that she had altered some of the answers. When she was caught and questioned by the authorities, she admitted very frankly that she had altered the answers. She added that she was very remorseful, and that she did not know what had gotten into her when she did it.

  The simple fact that escaped the prosecution is that the Ministry of Education (MOE) mandates the invigilation of national exams by teachers who have no motivation to affect the result and who have no ties to the students sitting for the exams. It was clear that this was a one-off offence and that it was the result of an extremely unfortunate sequence of events. There was certainly no prevalence of such offences, no syndicate involved, no difficulty in detection as she had used her own blue ink pen and there was no public disquiet. Not many persons were affected and Singapore’s educational reputation was not affected in any way. There was also no fear of such an offence recurring. Even if there was a probability of the event recurring, the public would have faith in our system that such an offence would be discovered and dealt with expeditiously.

  To understand the teacher’s mental framework, we must look back at her character, her achievements and her circumstances. Prior to this incident and the realisation of her mental disorder, she had been considered one of the better teachers in the school and had even received an award for being an efficient teacher.

  She and her husband had been trying very hard to conceive a baby for a long time but were unsuccessful initially. There were a couple of miscarriages at the start and finally after ten years of marriage, in July 2000, she managed to conceive. She gave birth to a daughter but tragically her child had leukemia. This news completely shattered her as she had been looking forward so much to being a good mother. Fortunately, by 2003, her daughter was in remission from the dreaded disease. Although her mood and anxiety improved, she remained concerned about her daughter’s health, which was natural for a mother whose child had suffered such a disease. Sadly, in 2007, Shanti’s daughter fell ill again and Shanti was devastated. She was not allowed to take leave as she was in charge of the Primary Six Tamil Language students. In her opinion, she had acted her very best and despite her domestic situation, she gave her all to the students. She was so dedicated that she even felt like she had adopted all the students as her own. She did what she did with good intention and care.

  When we were briefed to act for her, we had to take over the case from another lawyer. Soon after, we sent her to a psychiatrist, Dr Stephen Phang of the Institute of Mental Health (IMH). Dr Phang confirmed the assessment of private psychiatrist Dr Tommy Tan, that Shanti was suffering from depression. (Dr Tan said that Shanti suffered from chronic adjustment disorder with mixed anxiety and depressed mood. Dr Phang said that Shanti suffered from major depressive disorder.) This meant that there were occasions when she did not know what she was doing. Such a medical report would normally be sufficient for defence counsel to make a representation to the Attorney-General. In most cases, there was a chance that the charge could be withdrawn against the accused person or probation would be suggested as long as the accused person underwent medical treatment.

  So with great hope, we wrote to the Attorney-General explaining the whole situation and stressed the IMH psychiatrist’s concurrence with the diagnosis of major depressive disorder. Much to our surprise, we received a letter from the Attorney-General’s Chambers stating that they were not acceding to our representation. They were going to proceed with the charge and were intending to ask for a custodial sentence of 18 months. We were totally shocked.

  When the Deputy Public Prosecutor (DPP) arrived in court, I realised that he was once an intern in my office. I remembered him as a pleasant and helpful person during his internship period. He had shown much compassion for the clients who were in trouble. Now that he was in the Attorney-General’s Chambers, there was a change in him. His demeanour was all tough and unsympathetic. I said to him, “What’s happening, Ramu? This is really not fair, asking for this woman to go to jail.” He replied, “Well, it’s something that I cannot help you with because this is an instruction from my bosses.” I could understand that he was just a messenger, coming to court to convey the wishes of his bosses. But I didn’t like the way he said it, with a smirk on his face and without any trace of personal sympathy. When I said to my assistants “This guy has changed a lot,” one of them replied, “What do you expect? He is now under the influence of other people, not you.” Anyway, our client did not plead guilty.

  We approached the Senior DPP who then told us the problem they were facing. The MOE was taking this matter very seriously and they wanted her to be punished. I told the Senior DPP, “I can understand the fact that they want her to be punished, but 18 months? That is really ridiculous, isn’t it?” Even the hearing judge, Ms May Mesenas, was surprised at this demand. She called us into her Chambers and said that she was not going to give 18 months, but she also said that as it was a serious charge, she would not give probation. Then we went to open court. The prosecution wanted a custodial sentence of up to six months. We argued that a custodial sentence of one month or three to six weeks was sufficient. Subsequently, the accused was sentenced to two months in prison. She was released within weeks for good behaviour.

  Shanti visited me at my office with her husband after her release. They thanked me for my help. I said to her husband, “I am so sorry that my assistants and I were not able to help her more.” They said they could understand. She left the teaching profession and is now giving private tuition at home.

  This is a case where many other factors were involved that should have been taken into consideration but were not. It shows that sometimes people commit acts which appear on the surface to be very serious but when you analyse the offence and the person who committed the offence, you will find that it is not as deplorable as the prosecution makes it out to be. I was very disappointed with the attitude taken by the Attorney-General’s Chambers in punishing this woman who was actually mentally ill.

  Just because the pr
osecution wanted to please somebody, they have forgotten the main principle of law and that is, fairness. You must be fair, even if you are a prosecutor. More so, you must show compassion. You must exercise your prosecutional discretion carefully. Sometimes, when it is necessary, you can exercise discretion in favour of the accused person. This would only go to show compassion and would not make you appear small and petty in the eyes of the defence. It would make you look noble and the defence counsel will say, “This DPP, he’s tough but he is compassionate.” But I suppose those values are not important to some DPPs or even to some senior DPPs.

  FOUR

  A MOTHER’S UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

  I once helped a lady, Teo Sew Eng, who was the mistress of a very rich man. Unfortunately, the man was cruel and ill-treated her a lot, and she had to undergo psychiatric treatment for Dysthymia (persistent mild depression). He refused to divorce his wife to marry Teo even though she bore him a son. And although he had promised to give her $300,000 in the event of his death or during his lifetime, this promise was not fulfilled. He passed away when Teo’s son was a teenager.