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What was Singapore like during the 1960s?I lived and grew up in Singapore in the 1960s and thereafter lived in many other countries for more than twenty years. I hope my past experiences living overseas will help me give you a more worldly-wise and balanced account of life in the 1960s. This post is told from ground up, from the perspective of the common man, and not a top down statistician or politician’s macro view of the country’s independence, racial riots, economic struggles, politics,…etc.It is much based on my life in Redhill Close in the 1960s which we had both a surburban and rural lifestyle rolled into one - one that probably represented 85% of the people in 1960s.This article is adapted from a blog post Bon Voyage.If you like this post, please share it so that more people, especially youngsters, will know how life was like in the same space, but in a different time in the 1960s.IntroductionI grew up in Redhill Close and so this estate is very close to my heart. It was built in 1955 under the Singapore Improvement Trust (SIT), a housing scheme under the pre-independence Lim Yew Hock Government. It was commonly known as "chit lau chu" or 'seven story houses' in Hokkien or Teochew.When the flats were built, there were shanty attap hut dwellings scattered in its surroundings.The estate was accessible by a closed-loop ring road from Tiong Bahru Road and was only served by the Hock Lee Bus Company's Number 8 Service for a while. That went on until a new road Jalan Bukit Merah was constructed and appropriately called 'Xin Lor' (新路/'new road') in Hokkien, by the locals. Bus Service number 8 plied from Redhill Close to North Canal Road, near Raffles Place.LivelihoodMost of the dwellers of the attap hut kampong were pig farmers and other forms of subsistence farmers. Those who couldn't live off the ground, or get a job, sold cooked food in public places, which was illegal without a food catering licence.Among the hawkers that stood out was the fish ball noodle stall because they had errand boys going around the estate hitting at a longitudinally cut bamboo stick making a rhythmic "kok-kik-kok" sound to solicit for more business.They would take orders and deliver the noodles to their customers without delivery charges. Some customers living in the upper floors of the apartment blocks would lower their rattan basket tied to a rope to receive their bowls of noodles to save the boys climbing up several floors.Each bowl of noodles cost about 20 cents and the boy's wages was probably one Straits Settlement Dollar a day, about ten Singapore Dollars today.—-There are many such hawkers selling a varied number of services. Some of them would do more than just selling food and will perform to attract attention. One of them is the muah-chee hawker. He sells a dessert that is a cooked rice dough that is mixed with sugar, peanut powder and sesame seeds. While mixing the dough with the condiments, he would be bouncing himself up and down by flexing his knees as if he was dancing an A-Go-Go dance. Hence we called him the A-Go-Go man and he is often the highlight of the day when he stopped near my home. Kids would run to him to buy the muah-chee like he was the Pied Piper.For those who is not well versed with Chinese food. this is how muah chee looks like:Then there was the Iceball man. He will grind a block of ice into snow and colour it will sugar syrup and condensed milk. This was how it looked like:When the Ice-ball man was not around, we would buy ice-bags (‘sng bao’ 冰包), which were literally sugared and coloured drink frozen in plastic bags from one of the ground floor apartments that sold them. We would bite the corner of the sng bao and start sucking the melted juice that came out from it, in the process freezing our lips to a swollen red. Even with my swollen red lips I would lie to my mum that I did not spend my money foolishly on sng baos, thinking that I could fool her.There were also hawkers that were not selling food, but other services. There was one that sold glass. He would cut glass to measure for homes that happened to have broken a piece of table top glass or a cupboard glass. You wouldn’t think that he would be selling much, but there was demand those days.Yet another one was a tinsmith. He went around mending pots and pans. Aluminium pots and pans were used so intensively that they wear off and leak. Or it could be an old thermos flask that had started to leak. That was when the local friend tinsmith who carried his stall as two wooden boxes balanced over each side of a bamboo pole over his shoulders came to the rescue.Such repair services were needed because people could not afford to buy new replacements. It was a culture of keeping and repairing the old to make it work. Perhaps those trying times were also a training for mending human ties and making them work. Divorces were rarely heard of. People stayed married through thick and thin. Couples understood the need to tolerate, compromise and adjust. Divorces were taboos. It was a culture where people lived for keeps.Old things were used over and over again, until they were beyond repair and no more functional. People even used a kind of blue dye on old white shirts to make them look fluorescent and new looking again, instead of buying new ones.Prices for these hawker services were very competitive. Customers would bargain and try to save every cent they can get away with. We would even bring our own egg to the char kway teow (fried rice noodles with cockles) stall so that it will save us five cents.—-These illegal hawkers, as they were called, were constantly on the run from the Ministry of Environment enforcement officers.These officers were called 'teh gu' (地牛) in Hokkien, roughly meaning 'territorial bulls' when translated. When they caught the illegal hawkers, they would literally smash their stalls up into bits. Those were heartbreaking moments to bear, as we witnessed the hawkers' back breaking hard work for days or even months demolished right before their eyes.Yet the next day, they would be out selling their wares again. People got to eat and families needed to be fed. Life had to go on. People those days were tough and persistent. Only the fittest survived.However from the Government's point of view, they felt they had to be cruel to be kind, for the greater good of preserving public health and food safety. Most of these hawkers were eventually offered licence to sell their stuff in centralised food centres, now called 'hawker centres'.Animal FarmThe farmers would let their pigs roam around freely in the estate, where they (the pigs) would eat whatever scraps of food they could find and also conveniently crapped anywhere they liked.The farmers would also send their kids house-to-house to collect swill every morning - that is, the left over food, bones,…etc from households. The kid will collect the tin full of yesterday’s swill and give us an empty tin for the next day’s swill. The swill tin is usually a used cooking oil tin can with the top cut open with two holes for the improvised wire handle. Swill are filthy stuff of rotting food. With the uncovered top, it attracted houseflies and spread diseases. Therefore, sometime towards the late 1960s, the government provided plastic pails with covers for the swill and mandated that all swill be collected using them, putting an end to those rusty improvised swill cans.The swill would be collected and boiled en-mass to sterilise and then used to feed the pigs. Smelly stuff. Then every once a year, they will give every household a crate of 24 eggs to thank them for the swill. Nothing goes to waste those days.As kids, we had to watch out for those random heaps of shit in the playground and grass patches. When we played badminton, we had to be careful not to land the shuttlecock on any of those nasty heaps. With practice, we got more precise with where we wanted our shuttlecocks to land.The pigs and humans mostly co-existed in the same space peacefully. That is, until the retarded game of some boys daring each other to land a quick punch on any roaming pig and run. They chose the pig at random and did not victimise any of them. All pigs were considered on equal grounds. No pig was more equal than the others. The pig would scream out loud and run, and so would the boys. It was the boys' idea of having fun. Kids could be cruel with animals. Fortunately, they did that only very occasionally, when they felt that they needed some extra excitement in their already overstimulated minds.Stray dogs had it easier. They were all loved by the kids, especially the puppies. The dogs would learn commands and tricks like sitting down, rolling down and shaking hands very quickly. They also got fed little treats, like biscuits or pieces of bone. But the good times didn't last very long, as the authorities would send men with rifles to shoot them and cull their population. A very cruel practice that continued till a few years ago.Cats somehow got away. Cats always do.There were also goats herded by ethnic Indians in the neighbourhood. They would bring their goats out in the morning to graze on some grassland and then bring them back at sunset. In between, they would sell goat milk to the residents.FamiliesMy family moved from a squalid single shop house room at Clarke Quay, along the Singapore River (now a hip clubbing arena), to a two-bedroom apartment in Redhill. We were a first occupant of the then brand new flat. Then, the lifts frequently broke down as the kids from the neighbouring attap houses would come over to take joy rides. High rise dwellings and lifts were curiosities.When the sixteen storey apartment block (Block 55) was completed at Lengkok Bahru, up the hill from Redhill School, we kids from the seven storey houses went there and up to the top storey corridor. Sixteen storeys was a big deal then, when the highest you have been was only seven storeys. I remember when I first look down from the sixteenth storey, my first thought was that the cars looked like Matchbox cars and the people looked like ants.There are 21 blocks of two-bedroom flats in Redhill Close, numbered from 1 to 22, Block 4, is a row of single-storey shops. I remember that there were two provision shops, one photo studio, one laundry shop, one traditional Chinese medicine shop and a corner coffeeshop where fights happen frequently.The rent for each apartment was $52 a month for many years, until they were sold to the tenants in 1982.Most of the flats were lived in by ten or more people. Usually father, mother, eight kids and a grandma, all squeezed into about 600 square feet of floor. At night, every square foot of the floor was slept on and there were double deck or triple deck bunk beds to pack more in. Family members that had to use the toilet in the middle of the night had to be careful not to trample on their siblings.As if those conditions were not uncomfortable enough, it was common for families to take in additional member(s), usually a Malaysian relative working in Singapore to stay with them. Kinship was very strong. Together they would endure and tolerate physical discomfort, to help a kinsman to get ahead economically.Besides them, cousins also come to stay with us during their school holidays. We didn’t seem to mind and instead were delighted that there were more kids to play with.Money IssuesMany kids were undernourished and underweight and so they were fed free milk in school. It was compulsory for skinny kids.Most families had only one breadwinner. The mum would have to be a housewife to take care of the kids and the household.The fathers, those that were not illegal hawkers or professional gangsters mostly held blue-collar jobs like taxi drivers, carpenters, construction workers, vegetable sellers, fishmongers...etc.A very small number of them had a few years of formal education and those that spoke English were held in high regard and had comfortable desk jobs like bookkeepers, calligraphers, bank clerks,...etc. Those who completed their Senior Cambridge School Certificate (equivalent of 10 years in school) were prized possessions and were hired by British companies. These were the privileged ones, with the exception of those who had the untimely misfortune of working for the British Army, as they were retrenched in 1968 when the British troops withdrew from Singapore. Then, finding another desk job was hard.There was an exceptional one in my block, an interesting man who folded beautiful paper flowers and would finish his huge bouquet at 5pm every day. He would then take Bus Number 8 to deliver them to his client at North Canal Road.Wages were meagre and families lived from hand to mouth and paycheck to paycheck. Err… that is if you were one of the lucky ones to have a regular paycheck to start off with. Kids hardened by physical pains of corporal punishment, were petrified whenever they were threatened to have dinner taken away from them. These kids had experienced hunger and knew that having dinner forfeited would deal them the ultimate pain, worse than being beaten by the cane.Then, if you were a kid with three square meals a day, you were considered rich; and if you had less, you were considered poor. There were a visible number of families who just scraped through with three meals of very diluted rice porridge (with more liquid than grains) and black soy sauce. There were many who were poor. I have seen some going over to their neighbours to borrow rice.When money ran out, they borrowed.One of my neighbour’s daughter borrowed a few dollars from my sister and never returned it. Subsequently, she borrowed a dress and never returned it. Each time my sister asked her, she said the dress was in the wash, hanging out to dry, but we saw her wearing the dress later that day to work.I once played the game of Police-and-Thief with her younger brother. In this game, one group will play Thief while the other group, the Police, will go chasing them and bring them down physically. Being kids, it was a rough game. I caught up with her brother, made a dive and got hold of him by his shirt. In the process, I inadvertently tore his shirt. After that, he sat there quietly feeling very upset. Then, he told me that that was the only school shirt he had. I didn’t believe him, but the next day, I saw him going to school with his torn white shirt mended, quite obvious that it was badly torn.You see, his family lost their sole bread winner very early and they survived on his mother doing odd jobs that she could bring home here and there, until the oldest daughter finished school and started work as a secretary. Then, her salary supported the entire family, though secretaries didn’t earn a lot in the 1960s, probably drawing a salary of 100 Singapore dollars a month.One relative came over to borrow one thousand dollars (about SG$10,000 in today’s money) from us, as the husband and sole breadwinner was retrenched. It was a significant sum, but my father obliged. We were not rich and that sum was probably a bank overdraft. They eventually paid back.Forty years later, I met the son in a restaurant by chance and out of small talk courtesy suggested that we ought to meet for lunch someday. Instead of enthusiasm, I was shocked as he was evasive and suggested that I call his secretary to arrange. You see, this son had risen very high and wealthy, and was holding a comfortable senior position in the Establishment. He was probably afraid that I was asking for favours or help. But I had no such agenda and only meant to have lunch with a cousin whom I played with as a child. I was not in dire straits to need to borrow money, or ask for any help. That said, I am not sure if he would lend me money if I really needed it. Naturally, I didn’t contact his secretary and the lunch didn’t happen.The more entrepreneurial Redhill residents converted their living room into Chinese temple shrines to collect donations from worshippers; others converted their flat into gambling dens; and yet others sublet one of their bed rooms, packing the kids further into whatever space they could find. There was a married man and father of eight kids, who married a rich older woman and had a baby with her. There seemed to be an 'understanding' between the man and his two wives. In return, the second wife contributed financially to his family coffers.Some became tontine leaders that managed pools of subscriber contributed cash, but ran away with the money when the going got tough. Such cash was meant to serve as micro-loans to deserving members in times of need.Yet some others became illegal lottery bookies. They operated within a trusted network and sometimes communicated to their members via coded language scribbled like random graffiti on common walls. They made good money until the day when luck stacked against them and they had not enough money to pay the winners, as there were too many of them. And so they had to vanish. This was a blessing in disguise, as those that continued soon got arrested and thrown in jail. It was expected, as the police, too, learned the coded language enough to write the bookies’ fate on the walls.Some women worked as washerwomen, manually washing other people's laundry, as there were no domestic washing machines. Some worked as amahs (domestic servants) for expatriate Caucasian families. Yet others worked as seamstresses at home, so that they can continue to run the household and look after their children.The more desperate ones became bar girls, dance hostesses or prostitutes. These women of easy virtue would often end up having their daughters follow their footsteps when they got too old and their daughters got old enough.When all else failed, the desperate ones stole. When caught, they were first beaten up before being jailed, thus throwing their family into deeper jeopardy. Others became gangsters and ran prostitution dens and illegal casinos, extorted protection money, intimidated the weak and fought or killed their enemies.And that is why all parents wanted their children to study hard and do well in school, and not have to go through the physical hardship and financial uncertainties like those sea of nameless faces toiling in factories."Study hard and get a job that holds the pen, not one of rough (hard) labour," was the maxim.The New DawnIt was only a few years later in the late 1960s that there were more jobs, as Singapore's industrialisation plan began to trickle down to the masses. Then it was possible to get a job as a menial factory worker installing transistors for US$1 a day, which translated to SG$3 a day. A bowl of noodles costs 30 cents, so adjusted for inflation, it would be about SG$30 a day in today's money. It was still not much money, but it paid the bills.These factory workers would negotiate for free uniforms, so that they could save some money. Every cent counted. To make themselves a little different from others while donning the uniform, they would modify it a little bit here and there for some identity.Some female factory workers, particularly the Malay ones, would cut their uniforms very short and tight to exhibit their well endowed body and attract men. After a hard day's work of repetitive tedium, getting attention from the opposite sex helped to lighten their day and make the heart flutter a little. Canteen, common corridors and bus stops were their staging grounds.These sexy girls were so game into having a good time that they would respond to wolf whistles from construction workers in passing Datsun pickup trucks - much to the whistlers' delight.As people lived in cramped conditions, it was hard to find privacy in places for romance and physical intimacy. So when Tiong Bahru Park nearby was ready, many young couples went to the darker reaches of the park at night for some hanky panky and sex. They would lay their mats on the grass along the darker reaches of the park along the perimeters of Tiong Bahru Secondary School for their moments of ecstasy.However that didn’t always work, as sometimes, they would be watched by cheeky undercover National Environment officers on the pretext of catching litter bugs. These officers would confront the couple and issue a fine for littering, at the awkward moment when the man disposed his used condom on the grass. Thus giving a new meaning to being “caught with your pants down”. This cheeky voyeurism was called ‘liak kow’ in Hokkien (‘Catching Monkeys’). It begs the question as to who had a sadder sex life and who really had the last laugh.Left alone, it is human nature that men and women will find ways of dancing the mating game. This manifested as a bit of titillation here and a bit of flirtation there. Somehow, they would find gaps and opportunities amid their hard lives for some relief.The Original Old HillYes, there was indeed a little hill that was literally red in colour at the fringes of the estate, we called 'Au Buay Sua' in Hokkien, that translates to 'the hill behind' in English.Most people spoke Hokkien, Teochew or Cantonese; including some Malays and Indians who could speak them fluently. Conversely, many of the older Chinese folks could speak Malay fluently. Malay was an important common language those days. It is still the National Language of Singapore today, though many people can't speak it.The surrounding of Redhill Close was a random sprawl of shanty attap huts, separated by narrow winding mud tracks. At night, much of the kampong was not lighted. Some of the huts didn't even have electricity and fresh running water, and so relied on kerosene lamps and wells. Sanitation was simply served by huts with a hole in the ground. Some units did not even have land or dwelling registration.ReligionsThere were also two Chinese Folk Religion temples at the top, where many Chinese people worshipped at. Besides prayers, the mediums would occasionally go into trance to find answers to the worshippers' problems. During festivals, there were Hokkien or Teochew wayangs staged along the slope of the little red hill, attracting large crowds of audiences, along with hawkers, mini gambling den operators and other peddlers grabbing the chance to earn a few extra bucks.Most Chinese people worshipped Chinese Folk Religion deities, which is, contrary to popular belief, not the same as Taoism, although officially they are ignorantly and conveniently lumped into one. Taoism is a philosophy and arguably not a religion, though anything can be made into a religion if we try hard enough to do so.There was also a visible number of them that were Buddhists, some in their purest form practising Buddha’s teachings, whilst others were only into the exoteric rituals of prayers and joss sticks.Then there were a growing number of Chinese who converted to Christianity.The Malays were mostly Muslims and the Indians mostly Hindus.There was a time when a particular religion was systematically trying to convert everyone else. They claimed that their religion was the only Truth and that the rest of them were just superstitions.The irony is that a superstitious person will always be another person practising another religion, other than your own. You are never superstitious practising your own rituals in your own religion.That was not acceptable by some sections of the community and it took some 30 years later that a Maintenance of Religious Harmony Act was instituted in 1992.Really, all religions are man-made without exception, though most of them claim they are not a religion but a faith or a fellowship. I think that is mostly to wash away the bad memories of religious wars and malpractices in history. I think people should be free to believe what they want to believe and there should be respect all round not to coerce others into their religion.As Lee Kuan Yew once said to the effect that these religions (those accused to be mere superstitions) have given their believers a peace of mind for thousands of years, so who are we to say that they are false.However, there were situations when science could account for the superstitions. For instance whenever there was an eclipse of the moon in the 1960s, thousands of Redhill residents would come out to scare away the purported heavenly dog eating away the moon, by banging on their pots and pans to make a collective deafening ensemble. As a kid, I tried explaining to them the science of eclipses, but to no avail. They countered the argument by saying that the caretaker of the temple and their devotees were also banging on their pots and pans. Monkey see, monkey do.Sometimes I wonder if believers will eat shit if their religious leaders, too, ate shit.The TriadsThese shanty kampongs were breeding grounds and hideouts for the triads and they would have their initiation ceremonies almost uninhibited in the forested areas. Gangsters pursued by the police would run into the kampongs and the police would not dare to venture into those slums in the dead of the night in pitch darkness. So there, the triads festered.Once at a pasar malam (night market) along Jalan Bukit Merah, a young man snatched my mother's gold chain and jade pendant from her neck and ran, when she was bent down to examine something she wanted to buy. My mother gave chase and my sister barely 11 years old, grabbed me on a piggy back and ran with my mother. But we were not fast enough. It was quite a trauma for me as a five year old. The snatch thief ran and disappeared into the attap house cluster in the dead of the night. There was little we could do. A family friend suggested that we search the nearby grass patch, and that on the off chance, he might had the more valuable jade pendant carelessly slipped off the chain. We did that search and by sheer luck and to our delight, found the pendant.This incident was reported in the evening newspapers and my mother’s first time in the newspapers. The second time was later in 1964, when she was about to deliver my younger brother when there was a curfew outside in the aftermath of a racial riot. Luckily, she was picked up by a passing police patrol car that took her to the hospital.Ironically, my younger brother is the only one among the eight of us that was delivered in a hospital. The rest of us were delivered at home by midwives. These midwives learned their trade from their mothers and were not trained in medical schools, but were used by most mothers. Sometimes, there were mishaps and the weaker babies died. Only the fittest survived.By the early 1970s, pasar malams were banned, not for the incidents of snatch thievery, but for the bigger danger that they had become staging grounds for gang clashes. The night market crowd was used as a cover for gang members to form up before the battle without being noticed. Then on their leader's calls, they would charge their opponents with parangs (machetes), mangrove scaffold poles and metal pipes. Light bulbs filled with sulphuric acid became acid bombs and were hurled into the air at their opponents. It was a theatre of horror.Those fighters were fearless. They were fiercely loyal and were avowed to the code of silence to protect their brothers. They were motivated by a combination of sense of belonging, the security of a family, their boosted ego and the lure of money.It would be interesting to see how these fighters measure up against today’s MMA fighters in a free-for-all, where there are no rules, no referees and no time-out. Triad fighters fought to kill. In street battle, the one most fearless and motivated to kill will win. The order of importance is fearlessness, strength and martial art. It rhymes better in Hokkien as “it ta, zi laat, sa kanghu” (一胆，二力，三功夫).These gangs from Chap Pueh Sio Kun Tong (18 小坤堂), Dee Si Ang Koon (24 红根) and their spinoffs, often fought to settle territorial disputes.There were gang chants and songs to identify and set themselves apart. As all gang names were prefixed with numbers, gang members would challenge their opponent in coded language in Hokkien, such as, “What number are you playing?” or “Where are you playing?”. Such challenge and response protocols percolated down to the lower rungs of the gangs and then seeped out to copycats and kids.The last two groups mimic the ways of gangsters hoping to spread fear and gain respect. It didn’t always work, as they might meet a one-hell of a loner one day who will beat them into a pulp and they would be unable to mobilise their fictitious gang to protect them.Many petty fights among the junior gang members arose from a gang member being beaten up by an opposing gang in another territory. When the beaten up gang member reported that to their brothers, they would mobilise a section of them to counterattack. There was no investigation and no questions asked. They were mostly short-fused and psychologically hardwired to protect their brothers. Sometimes, the fight could have started out of a petty ‘staring incident’, where gangster A stared at gangster B, and vice versa, that eventually escalated to their smashing each other’s heads up with beer bottles and chairs. People had died out of such ‘staring incidents’.Eventually, the elders of each gang would get together to ‘talk reason’ to resolve the dispute. When they were resolved, the offending party will pay damages in the form of a feast for the offended gang. So there was a code of ethics in the triad world.Besides the island-wide famous gangsters of Lim Ban Lim and Fei Chai (fatty), there were other legendary names we hear in Redhill. One of them, let’s call him ‘Parrot’, a gangster who was later rumoured to have been an undercover detective. My gut feeling is that he might have been just an informer.Another, was nicknamed Sam Mah Chai , after the famous Hong Kong opera actor Sun Ma Sze Tsang of that era. He was a fierce fighter during his younger days. I didn’t meet him in the 1960s, but some fifty years later, I met him on a film set where I acted with him.In the scene on set, he played the role of my screen father who is visiting me (my character) in prison. Such irony.He looks like a regular old man in his 70s. He is lean and tanned and mostly polite and quiet. When I asked him, he recounted his younger days as a fighter in gang clashes, his time spent in the Pulau Senang (island) penal colony and the mutiny/riot in 1963. He also showed me the scars on this arms and said that he got them while blocking himself from parangs (machetes) swinging at him. He said that it was a miracle that his arms were not chopped off. He said that he was young and stupid, came from a broken family and found himself in bad company and influence, and all that eventually led him to join the triads.The government eventually clamped down hard on them with the infamous Section 55 of the Penal Code, that gives the police arbitrary powers to arrest and detain secret society members indefinitely without trial.New public places that were built were to be gangster proof - hawker centre tables and chairs were to be fixed to the ground, so that they could not be used as weapons during a fight; and more places were brightly lit up.As a kid, I have seen quite a few fights, gang clashes and riot squads in action. If you were a kid that used to roam around a lot, chances were that you would have gotten into some petty fights just to protect yourself or your friend. Kids toughened up and became streetwise very quickly those days.Photo courtesy of SPH ArchivesChildhoodIn the day, the kampongs were the natural playground for kids. Boys would go there to catch spiders and fish.The boys would catch a certain species of spider that would fight whenever they saw another one of them. This species was found in the bushes near the railway tracks.The trains run from Tanjong Pagar to Malaysia twice a day. Once in the morning and once in the afternoon. The ownership of the railway land was a legacy from the days when Singapore was part of the Malaysian Federation and it was still sovereign land belonging to the Malaysian Government. That means that the Singapore Government had no jurisdiction over it and the Singapore police had no right to enter it for law enforcement. It was a long stretch of Malaysian sovereign land, which Singapore only got back in the year 2011. As a result, a squatter colony flourished on this ‘no-man’s land’ next to the tracks with the nearest squatter roof eave overhang literally a few inches from the side of the train as they whooshed past every day.When there were no trains, the kids would be playing around the tracks. It was a closely knit community where the adults would check that the railway tracks were free from kids loitering around when it was time for the train to pass. I dread to think what would have happened if the railway company had decided to change their time table suddenly. Hundreds of children would be had been overrun and killed. Thankfully that never happened. They probably knew that they could not change the time table.The railway track area was a remote area, so the smaller boys from outside the squatter colony must be vigilant and vanish into the bushes whenever they saw bigger boys approaching from a distance. Often these bigger boys will rob the smaller boys or beat them up. It was the law of the jungle. Singapore was far from the safety levels we have today. Those were the days when everybody would turn into a bully given half a chance. This was extended to politicians, policemen, teachers, nurses, bus conductors,.... etc.To get to the water stream, the boys would need to skirt around a shanty hut built at the edge of the stream. They would have to squeeze through a very narrow path between the house and the water, wide enough only for tiny feet to cross. Inside, there lived a mad woman who would rush out with her long messy hair and full grin whenever she noticed kids passing by. Rumours had it that she used to have a baby, but she died soon after. Thereafter, she lost her sanity.The boys would fish at the upstream of the water where it was clean and clear. They would catch those beautiful guppies with rainbow coloured tails.As it flowed downstream, the water got murky very quickly by the toilet hut discharge that went directly into the water. This water would flow to the drains along Redhill, down to the Alexandra Canal and finally discharging into the Singapore River. It was no wonder why the River was black and stinking like an open sewer, and was nauseating to go near after a hearty meal.However, it was at the downstream that the bigger fishes were found, particularly the big black catfish. As they say, you can't catch many fish in clear waters. Catfish were considered a longkang fish (fish from the drains) in those days. These days, it is an expensive delicacy.And of course there were fighting fish, where bets were made as to which fish would win in a fight. Put together in the same jar, these beautiful fish would waste no time tearing each other apart and both of them will end up with tattered fins.We also flew layangs (kites) with strings laced with powdered glass. The goal was to fly high and cut the strings of other kites off.There was the factor of how much glass you have laced on your strings with and there was the technique of ulo-tarek (release and pull) at the right time. Basically, when the opponent’s kite tightened to cut your string, you slacken your string so that it was hard for them to cut yours. Then, you would surprise the opponent by tightening up quickly, coming down hard and fast on them, and cutting them off.When the string was cut, the kite flew away loose from the owner and eventually came down. On the ground, there would be lots of kids running after the kite, as it will belong to anyone that catches it. Of course fights occur frequently over the argument of who got to the kite first. There, we saw a lot of bullying around with the bigger boys pushing and shoving the smaller boys down to the ground to get the kites.We laced our strings by winding them around two trees that were spaced apart, and then coating them with glue boiled from cow hide, before running finely pound glass over the glue coated strings. Finally, we left them to dry under the hot sun.We made the kites with thin strips of bamboo and tracing paper.There was also this local cherry tree that the boys loved. The cherries are edible and the tree was colloquially called the ba-cherry tree. I just found out from the Internet that its scientific name is Muntingia Calabura, aka Jamaica Cherry or Singapore Cherry.But the boys didn't love it because the cherries tasted good, but more so because they could use them as ammunition for their guns made from pieces of waste wood and rubber bands. They would target at passing school boys and have their white shirts splattered spectacularly cherry red, driving the victims into a rage and the shooters running for their life.Sometimes we would wander further away to places like Pasir Panjang to see the beach, and in one instance, cut long green bamboo poles and drag them home to make pencil stands or piggy banks. Pasir Panjang Road was once a narrow road with villages along either side. The villagers would send their ducks crossing over to the beach to eat the abundant seaweed during low tide, and after the feeding, the ducks would wander back across the road home safely.We also walked through the Redhill attap houses, cross the railway tracks and went upslope to Mount Faber, which was a tourist destination. Once, after a tourist bus came, we were asked to pose with several of them for photos. We were just scrawny little kids in singlets, shorts and slippers, but felt like stars at that moment. One young couple from Canada (I think), told me that they had quit their jobs to see the world. That statement really floored me and kept me thinking about for days. How could it be that the local people in Redhill were struggling to stay alive, while these Caucasian tourists could be gallivanting around the world and even quit their ( I assumed) well paying jobs to do so? I could not fathom that thought and the question stayed etched in my psyche for years to come. Perhaps it had planted a seed in my mind so much so that 13 years later, I set off to live and work in 19 countries across 4 continents over 20 years.With no money in our pockets, we invented our own toys. We turned clothes pegs, bottle caps, abandoned wheels (probably from prams), drink straws, old copper coins, ice-cream sticks, rubber bands, cardboard boxes, wish-bone pieces of wood, rubber tree seeds, Acacia tree fruit, papaya tree stalks,...etc, into toys. We even learned a technique of shooting lallang grass blades at other people.We would slide down grass slopes with cardboard boxes, climb on staircase railings, climb scaffolding, climb trees, jump from the second storey to the ground floor, explore abandoned bunkers, crawl through drain tunnels,...etc. We survived all that!Boys will be boys. We didn't know what the girls did for fun. They were probably doing their homework and playing five-stones at home. They didn't matter to us. We probably thought they were boring. Kids look at the world as one humanity. It was only years later during puberty that we divided the world into two halves and got selfishly interested in only one-half of humanity. LOL.It is sad that all these antics are mostly lost among the kids today. Nowadays, they have virtually merged themselves into their mobile phones and computer games. They have become one with the machine, but not with nature. They do not know how much they have missed and have bypassed the chance of growing up inventing their own games, imagining their own stories and exploring new and dangerous places.SchoolsSchools weren’t so demanding as they are today in Singapore. That said, education standards were still very high and rigorous. For instance, we were taught language grammar and punished for speaking badly. That usually meant physical pain. A whip on the bum or a smack on the head. However, we were not pressured to hate or fear school. Besides, we didn’t only learn from school, we also learned from each other, by living through crises, through empty spaces of time staring into the distance (the blank), by exploring nature first hand and by making mistakes.In contrast, kids today learn by NOT making mistakes, within a strict structure and time table with a highly prescribed curriculum. A lot of spontaneous opportunities for initiative and creativity are lost. Their prime reward is only their scores, that will mark their lives. Or so this is what is expected.During recess time, mothers will bring home-cooked food to feed their kids, although the canteen offered rather inexpensive food. The philosophy was that home-cooked food was healthier and also that they could save some money. Mothers walked 15 to 20 minutes to the school lugging the food along in tinkats to feed their kids. I was always very delighted that my mum brought food for me during recess. It saved me queuing up and also the food was delicious.However, I remember once, my classmate rejected his mum’s food. He said that he was not hungry, but I think it was because he was ashamed of his mum. His mum was a tanned wrinkled woman who could only speak Hokkien. I guessed Hokkien was considered a low-class language at that time. We were even punished for speaking Hokkien in school by overzealous teachers. I bet they didn’t know the impact it had on the kids’ self esteem and the pride of their culture by banning the language in school. This incident had shaken me quite badly till today. I felt sorry for the mother.This is how a tinkat pot looks like.Most of us attended the three English medium schools in the neighbourhood, called Redhill Primary, Bukit Merah North and Bukit Merah South. We studied English as a first language and our ‘mother-tongue’ as the second language. Bukit Merah North offered Mandarin and Malay as second languages, while Bukit Merah South offered Mandarin and Tamil. The three schools shared a single big field that flooded every time there was a heavy rain. When that happened, the boys would be out there in the rain and flood playing in the muddy, murky waters. If you do it often enough, you don’t fall sick doing so.This location is now occupied by Gan Eng Seng School.Those that wanted a Chinese language education studied at Keng Seng Primary, a government-aided school formed by a cluster of attap huts in the kampong. Those who wanted a better Chinese school went to River Valley Government Primary or Tuan Mong High School.There was a wide difference between those from Chinese medium schools and those from English medium schools. Those from Chinese schools were much more disciplined, as it would be, given that Chinese ideograph characters are not phonetic and had to be committed to memory - every stroke and stroke order. And then the need to memorise huge amounts of classical text by heart. They were also prouder to be Chinese and associate themselves with the accomplishment of the People’s Republic of China (PRC). The extreme ones even dressed like people from the PRC, the guys would wear white short sleeve shirt and blue pants with basketball shoes made in China and the girls would sport pleated long braids, white blouse, pleated blue or black skirt, white socks and black shoes.I guessed this must have scared Lee Kuan Yew, as by 1978, he closed all Chinese medium schools, so that we could be safer from the Communists. China at that time, was sponsoring the insurgent Communist Party of Malaya (CPM). Lee also started a speak Mandarin Campaign to take away dialects, and cut the clans of their following and the triads that thrived on them.Mandarin language teachers those days were mostly bullies at heart. They would intimidate the children, insult them and despise them for not being able to speak their mother-tongue, which strictly was not true because most of our parents then could not speak Mandarin. It was the language of the Northerners, get it?! We in the South spoke Hokkien, Teochew, Cantonese and other languages (which they downgraded into ‘dialects’).By the time we reached secondary schools, we had Chinese dictation tests. It was from here that many of us had nightmares about such tests for many years to come, deep into adulthood. In Chinese dictation tests, the invigilator does not read the text while the candidates write. You only hear ‘start’ and ‘stop’, and in between, you are to regurgitate one or two pages of text from the book, word for word. Hundreds of hours were taken away from our play time to memorise texts for such tests. Such tests were later discontinued. Lee Kuan Yew once commented that it was insane.For those in English medium schools, we also studied Bahasa Kebangsaan (National Language), which is Malay.We spoke English in class, but Chinese dialects and Malay outside, but still, we didn’t have Singlish. It was not born yet.Besides the academics, Lee Kuan Yew also started Pesta Sukan (Sports festival) in 1964 as a series of friendly sport competitions. This is to build a rugged society, as he knew that with a population living from hand to mouth, sports and physical fitness was never a priority. Many sports amenities were built with very cheap entry fees and I started going swimming at Queenstown Swimming Pool, the third public swimming pool in Singapore, about three kilometres away.As a result, I also became an all rounder athlete. I represented my school in Athletics 100 metre and 200 metre sprint, 4 x 100 metre sprint, Long Jump, Triple Jump, High Jump, Basketball and Softball. I had a whale of a time with my extra-curricular activities.This campaign to build a rugged society was very successful and timely, especially in 1968 when we had to build our own army rapidly when the British troops withdrew from Singapore.Band on the RunThe 1960s was also the golden age for Singapore music. This bolstered by the British Army which was stationed in Singapore and they had bands playing in their Officers’ Mess during weekends. Local bands like The Quest, The Stylers and The Shadows were very popular among the expatriates and English speaking Singaporeans. These Singaporeans were mostly Eurasians, Peranakans and the more Anglicised Indians, Malays and Chinese. Many were second or third generation Singapore born citizens and a visible number of them were from Catholic schools and good government schools, where proper English was spoken.This was enough for Radio Television Singapore (RTS) to start the first Talentime (1967/68). Three teenage girls from Raffles Girls Secondary, called The Tidbits, won the first prize and went on to cut their first albums with RCA/Cosdel.Western music brought along Western Pop culture of long hair, bell bottom pants and flora motif slim fit shirts with big collars for men. Girls sported straight long hair and loose blouses with flowery designs. There was also a more decadent side of substance abuse of ganja (marijuana), cocaine and MX pills.The authorities knew they had to stop this spread of decadent Western culture and imposed an Anti-Long Hair Campaign, where long haired males would be served last at government counters. Western pop bands spotting long hair coming into Singapore would have to cut their hair, or be turned back. Urine tests were also conducted in random nightclub raids, army camps and schools.Students in schools were subjected to regular long hair checks and repeat offenders would have their hair cut on the spot by the discipline masters. Teachers would cold heartedly pull the side burns of boys that were too long and have them grimacing in pain. Some discipline masters would cut a gap in the middle of the hair, so that the offenders would be forced to cut their hair short, GI-style, making offenders looking like a fool to their friends. However, fashion comes and goes. What was silly in those days looks cool today. So, there is no meaning to anything other than the meaning we attach to it.Lee Kuan Yew was a strong man well known for his draconian methods. He knew that if he wanted to have the industrialisation plan working, he would need healthy young men to work and not run the risks of them taking on the laissez-faire hippie lifestyle of sex, drugs and Rock-and-Roll. He violated many aspects of human rights, but he did get the industrialisation plan going.Getai in the 60s. Photograph courtesy of Mr Aaron Tan, Lex(s) Entertainment Productions.However, the majority of Redhill residents were not that hip and were more into local Hokkien, Cantonese, Teochew and Mandarin pop songs, with predictable kitschy cha-cha beats and electric guitar melodies. The Chinese religious leaders saw that and staged Gotai (歌台) to entertain their deities and worshippers. Some local singers got famous through this route. Such Gotai persists till this day.One of my brother’s friend, Wu Gang, won a record label contest and went on to be a local star. He had his educational certificates left in our house for safe keeping, in case his attap house home caught fire - quite common those days. He was a top singer in the local scene in the 1960s and 1970s. Thereafter, he went to the UK to further his studies in fine arts and returned to start his own graphics design business. Upon graduation, he came to our place a few times but thereafter I didn’t get to meet him.Some forty years later, I got to work for a Chapman University student film project called “Last Wish”. It is about the mending of relationship between a singer-celebrity son and his father at his death bed. I played the role of the father, Sean Goh played the role of the son and the director of the film was his actual sister, Jean Goh, a final year student of Chapman.It was only a few days ago, at the time of writing, that I found out that Sean and Jean are the children of Wu Gang. Sean and Jean sing a lot and Jean won a national Mandarin singing competition in 2016.Small world.Small IslandIn 1960, Singapore was 250 sq miles with a population of 1.6 million. The people had big families and were reproducing fast, which prompted the government to start the Family Planning Campaign in 1960. The message was “Stop At Two [kids]”. Many mocked this to mean “Stop at two o’clock at night”. Mothers that had their third kid onwards were pressured to sterilise, or have their kids’ priority for schools….etc, placed last. The Campaign was an outstanding success. The average number of babies per woman went down from 6 in 1960, to 1.2 in 2016.In the 1960s, there was no MRT, no highways and roads were narrow and single lane. Accessibility from one end of the island to the other by car might take a few hours. During Chinese New Year, my parents would hire an old Austin car to pack all of us in to go from Redhill to Upper Serangoon to visit my grandmother. The distance was merely 7 miles apart, but took us the whole morning to get there, with the traffic grinding to a snail’s pace with the festive crowd. One of my sisters would have to stop the car to come out to throw up, as she could not take the long hours confined in the heat and humidity in the car. The same journey today would take 35 minutes by MRT.So Singapore may have been a small island then, but people did not travel the same kind of distances every day. People barely wander more than 2 mile radius from their village hut. They would frequent their village regular coffeeshop to listen to dialect broadcasts on cable radio Redifussion, frequent the People’s Association’s Community Centres to watch TV, or visit their local open air cinema. They probably made yearly or bi-yearly trips to the City to replenish groceries and essentials, or visit a ‘far-away’ relative.Perhaps that was how those runaway tontine leaders, illegal bookies, unmarried mothers, shamed members of families, banished gang leaders, …etc could vanish and still remain unnoticed in Singapore for years. Those days, there were no Internet, mobile phones, computers, fax machines; and very few people had line telephones and televisions.SummaryRedhill Close for all its good, bad and ugly, warts and all, was a close-knit community where everyone knew everyone. It was where gossip and news took no time to get around. Neighbours would visit each other anytime. Often, those without TV would go over to those apartments with TVs to enjoy the evening's programme. Those that lived along common corridors and had televisions in the living room would leave their windows open, so that neighbours could stand by the corridor and enjoy the evening's programme.Mothers would often leave their kids to their neighbour's care for an hour or two, while they made their trips to the wet market; and they would return that goodwill when asked upon.Kids mature very quickly those days, as they were assigned family duties very early in their life. By the age of 16 years old, he or she would have gone through thick and thin with the family and had helped their parents bring up seven other younger siblings, taken care of a grandma and laboured through the drudgery of housework. His younger siblings say of age 14 years old or below, would in-turn be in-charged and responsible for the well-being and safety of those even younger. So there was a strict hierarchy in the family, where the older was responsible for the younger ones. The younger ones got taken care of and did not have many duties, but they had to obey their elders.Kids that grew out of communities in the 1960s learned to be self-reliant, tough and empathetic to the needs of others. And so when they were older, they would partake in protests and strikes against bus fare hikes, price rises or unfair dismissals. Though those were compounded by the fuel of anti-Imperialist and socialist movements.At 16 years old, some boys would become merchant sailors earning about $1,000 a month, a princely sum at that time, considering that an accountancy graduate in 1968 earned $400 a month. Others joined the army and got trained and toughened up to be operationally-ready very quickly by Israeli war veterans. All that so that they can contribute to the family’s coffers and pull everyone out of poverty and hardship.That was life around 50 years ago. Most residents were living under the poverty line by today's standards. Yet, we were rich in human spirit and mostly happy. I saw more smiles then, than I do now in Singapore as a progressive modern metropolis. The oldest man I knew was never lonely and the ugliest woman got married and had many kids.My mother had six kids when she was 30 years old. Nowadays, many girls 30 years old or older, have no kids, nor are they married. And yet some others in this age range are still in their cutesy narcissistic online fantasies with aspirations to be social network personalities. I am not judging what is right or wrong, but just saying the way it is. While everyone is free to make their own choices, there will always be consequences arising from those choices.Some people say that times have changed and that "policemen those days wore shorts". But I still feel that somethings will always be the same. Love has remained the great constant over centuries of history. Love never changed. With the onslaught of media influences and peer pressures, we ought to ask, "What would Love do in a given situation?"Thereafter around 1969, the attap houses were demolished to build Housing Development Board (HDB) flats to accommodate ethnic Indians resettled from the Silat Road and Kampong Bahru enclaves, due to the extension of Jalan Bukit Merah (road). Several years later, the little red hill, where the estate got its name from, was flattened to build what is now Bukit Merah Central (“bukit merah” means "red hill" in Malay).This year, the estate itself is due for urban renewal. It will be demolished and replaced by closely packed tall modern blocks, with multi-storey car parks identical to many other uniform-looking estates in Singapore. The existing residents will have the option to move to replacement flats built nearby around Henderson Road.Where do we go from here?Singapore has made huge economic strides by any standards. This is because there was a leadership that cared and a population that trusted their leaders and worked hard to achieve their dreams. They were simple, but noble dreams: Merely to earn enough money to bring up healthy and moral children that will do well in school, in an environment without war, riots or violence.Times have changed people. It is not like this today. With progress, comes comfort, risk aversion and self-centredness. Many people have forgotten how it was like to be really poor. The younger ones have never experienced it. Leaders pay lip-service to it, fall into group-think and are petrified to lose their million dollar jobs.High salaries may preempt corruption, but they also numb sensitivities to human values, reducing us to mere digits of equivalent dollars. It distorts the perception of life, since nature does not have money; and that trees and animals grow without the need for money.While a million dollar salary is a lot of money to most mortals, it is now perceived by the elites as an entitlement and that their family will suffer if there are minor adjustments made to that salary. Or that anyone earning half a million dollars and below are considered mediocre, implying that money is the prime factor for measuring a human being. Or ignorantly assuming that it is common for every family to own two cars.So it is evident that the citizens’ struggles with the very basic day-to-day issues are not in the minds of the elite. Issues that are as basic as paying for electricity and water, apartment rent, school fees, costs of text books,…etc. The elites generally leave these issues to somebody else lower down in the hierarchy to sort out, or to sweep under the carpet.Bureaucrats across the ranks, hired for their brilliant minds, second guess their political bosses and window dress numbers to look good, maintain status quo and keep their jobs.Those with alternative views choose to remain silent to keep their jobs and their above market salaries. Their biggest conflict they have now is with their true selves: The true self that is crying out to live truthfully.So this was how life was like in Singapore in the 1960s and how it contrasts with life today. The hard times of old made us strong, but by now, those values are largely eroded and relegated to the scrapbooks of history.Still, I heard that a prominent politician hails from Redhill and so I wish that this son of Redhill will bring back the spirit we once had and pull us out of this slum of moral decay.If you like this post, please share it so that more people, especially youngsters, will know how life was in the same space, but a in different time in the 1960s.If you would like to read about how life is in contemporary Singapore, including some funny and ironical bits, you may like to read:How is living in Singapore like?What do the people in Singapore do that is different than the rest of the world?Thank you for reading this far. It is a long article and I hope it is well worth your time.

I certainly understand that this is a troll question, probably created by someone who is part of the same club that aims to divide antigovernmental voices in Quora.Still I do make this answer for the benefit for others who might fall in trap of such agendasBoth Kerala and TN are indeed part of the much large scale farmers agitation and indeed the popular sentiment is against Central Govt for its dictatorial approach of passing laws without public consultation and taking stakeholders into confidence.I don't have state wise figures. But a survey conducted by one of the leading rural survey agency- Gaon Connect has shown well that, majority in South India opposes Farm LawIf you look the above survey details, its North West (Punjab, Haryana and Himachal Pradesh) have the highest rate of opposition to the laws, followed by North India and then followed by South India. In South India, 51% of the society is opposed to the Farm laws.The only supporting segment where it forms majority are farmers of West India (MH, Gujarat, MP)So as like farmers of North West, a good percentage of farmers in South India believes that the laws are meant for benefits of corporates and MNCsApprox 40% believes that this law is of benefit of MNCs and tradershttps://insights.gaonconnection.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/Rural-Report-2.pdfOver 50% Farmers Oppose Farm Laws, But A Third Have No Information, Says Gaon Connection SurveyThis survey was taken in Oct 2020 when the Anti Farm Laws haven’t graduated to current level. Yet even in that time, a sizeable population of South believes the law is Anti Farmers, though its equally true majority were either indifferent or ignorant of nuances of law unlike North West.So from that level, by now, most of the states in South have clear cutAnd you can see pics of many farmers from Southern states in protestsKarnataka farmers protest against the lawFarm laws: Farmers in Karnataka to hold tractor rally in Bengaluru on Republic DayFarmers in Karnataka protest amendments to farm laws, march to Vidhan SoudhaFarmers in Karnataka blocked highways protesting Centre's farm lawsAndhra Farmers and their families protesting against the lawProtests in Tamil Nadu against Farm lawsSince I am from Kerala and knows Kerala context better, I can definitely vouch, a very large section of Kerala society and farmers are against the law. Its clearly seen in the political attitude of most of parties, media and public opinions.Kerala became the 5th state to officially pass a resolution to withdraw the controversial farm laws and the first in South India to pass such a resolution. And it was an unanimous resolution supported by both LDF and UDF. Interestingly, even the lone BJP MLA in Kerala Niyamasabha supported the resolution and opinioned he stands with the popular demand of peopleKerala becomes 5th state to pass resolution against farm laws: Top developments | India News - Times of IndiaIn addition, there were so many seminars and meetings held across the Kerala to make people aware how these laws bring harm to Indian farmers and meant to support crony capitalistsKerala CM Pinarayi Vijayan attending Farmers Satyagarha in Thiruvananthapuram to lend his government’s official support to it and he made a detailed speech how the new laws affect Indian farmers.I am not sure, but if my information is right, he is the first CM to officially participate in a Farmer’s Agitation camp and formally announce his government’s support though in many states there are CMs who are positive to the social agitationsTractor Rally organized by Malayalee farmers in Alappuzha, one of the biggest agrarian districts of Kerala with nearly 500+ farmers marching 50 tractors from Kuttanadu (known as rice bowl of Kerala) to Alleppey Town.For last 50+ days, Malayalee farmers are protesting in front of Matyr’s square thro’ a relay satyagraha seeking Central Govt to remove the law and lend their support to those farmers who are protesting braving cold weather of DelhiKerala farmers start indefinite protest in solidarity with farmers agitating in DelhiSo as farmers associated with AIKS has announced that 1000 farmers from Kerala will leave to Delhi in batches to join with Farmers movement. First two batches have already joined in the agitation in DelhiAnd these farmers were welcomed at Singur by our Punjabi brothers and sisters warmlyFarmers from Kerala paying their tributes to Saheed Uttam SinghFarmers from Kerala welcomed by Yogendra Yadav at the borderIn addition, Pineapple farmers from Kerala sent 16 tonnes of Pineapple to Punjabi farmers who are in agitationPineapples from Kerala reach protesting farmers in DelhiBeyond Sweet Solidarity, The Truckload Of Pineapples Sent By Farmers Is To Highlight Their StruggleVazhakkulam farmers send truckload of pineapples to Delhi protestorsThe famous Oorali Music band from Kerala reached Shahjahanpur border to energize the spirits of protestors with their iconic Malayalam folk pop musicOorali singers at Tikiri BorderIn addition the protests do happen in Kerala regular basis, though the matter is not a high priority in local context as the central laws donot have any direct impact over Kerala and hence no applicable for the state.Arun Mohan (അരുൺ മോഹൻ)'s answer to Why did Maharashtra, Karnataka, Kerala, and Tamil Nadu farmers not participate in the farmer's protest march in Delhi?Yet as Indians, we Malayalees believe, its our primary duty to support millions of brothers and sisters in North who have braved harsh winter and autocratic police and governments to make their voices be heard.There are indeed protests happening in Kerala. But generally most of the protests would be unnoticed by Delhi-Mumbai centric National media.Even a contingent from many other states are often ignored as they are numerically lesser in strength. Its impossible march ten-thousands or lakhs to Delhi from distant places like Kerala or TN.For last 2 years, a group of TN farmers were inside Delhi, right close to Parilament area protesting against Modi’s anti-farmer attitudes which were hardly noticed or given any due importance by anyone. This is because its impossible for entire farmers of TN to march to Delhi considering the distance. But farmers from Punjab, Haryana, UP have that advantage as they are closer to Delhi and their collectives do threaten the govt. Thats why this protest has gained more public attention unlike Tamil protests of 20172017 Tamil Nadu Farmers protest - WikipediaAnyways, we are definitely grateful to many of our brothers and sisters in North who have joined hands to bring down the arrogance of this govt. In that fight to regain our democratic space, Kerala will always be there.Further readingArun Mohan (അരുൺ മോഹൻ)'s answer to Why is Kerala not having any APMC? How do the farmers sell their farm produce in Kerala if there are no APMC mandis in the state?

I've interviewed at least 100 dominatrixes. Which makes me an expert on something but I'm not sure what.The math I use to get there is straightforward. The first time I had to do an interview it was for my HBO web series "3AM" 18 years ago. The idea was this: if you were out on a Tuesday night at 3 in the morning, I was going to find you and interview you.Why Tuesday? Because Saturday is too obvious (you were enjoying a night out on the town). And Tuesday, well, let's just say you were up to something. No judgement!I was really scared the first time. And the second time. And the 100th time. And 18 years later during podcasts I'm still nervous every time I'm about to interview someone.But for those 3am shows I would pretend I was an actor and that I knew the people and I would just go up to them and say, "Hey, how's it going?"I wore my HBO jacket and there were video people behind me so the subjects would get a little bit shocked and then I would explain what I was doing.The key was this: within the first 15-30 seconds I had to get them so comfortable that they had to be able to tell me their deepest secrets.People were cheating on their spouses (both men and women), people were looking for drugs, or were teenagers scared of their parents and police, or were simply completely insane. There were drug dealers, prostitutes, every sort.One time I took my assistant with me to be the production assistant on a shoot. She said (I love you Trish), "Are you like a dominatrix magnet or something?" since we had so many professional dominatrixes we would run into and who were eager to be interviewed. At least 5% of the people I approached randomly.I did this for three years and as I always tell people: I turned over every rock in NYC. There's nothing I didn't know about what goes on in NYC at three in the morning.I went to Riker's Island (a jail), I went to sex clubs, I went to late-night factories, I went to illegal radio stations, I pretended to be homeless for weeks at a time, I went to buildings with floor after floor of cubicles with naked women doing online sex charging by the second (and this was 1997).And often I would hear the saddest horror stories of what cast people out from the day into the night, probably never to return to normal lives again.I would release four interviews a week. In a sense, I was podcasting from January 1996 to January 1999. Four interviews released a week, chosen out of about 15 interviews a week. A little over 2000 interviews in all. 5% of that equals about 100 dominatrixes.And for 100% of them, I had to get my interviewees comfortable in 30 seconds or less. After 30 seconds they start throwing bottles at you. Or chasing you. Or even worse, just simply ignoring you.For my first few weeks of interviews, HBO made me bring a bodyguard. But when we were chased out of a transvestite club once he was at least three blocks ahead of me. He was a track star in college. Or in the FBI. Or some military unit he claimed.Then I would make my interviewees sign a release form. It wasn't required but I asked them to put their phone number on the release form. I will admit that on only three occasions I used the phone number later to ask a girl out on a date. After all, they were already comfortable talking to me. And that HBO jacket had to come in handy somehow.A podcast is different but also the same. The similarity is that they have to get comfortable with you. Sometimes its hard.Coolio told me the other day he thought I was obnoxious at first. But then he said at the end, "but you got me to reveal some real deep shit I wasn't planning on talking about. Kudos." That was like milk chocolate spilling into my brain.Here's what I do and what I DON'T do.A) PREPARATION:This past week I did 4 podcasts. For the four podcasts I read 11 books. I read all the books written by each person I'm interviewing. I highlight parts of each book and make comments on the highlights. I then write down in my notepad what question I might want to ask based on that highlight.Most of the time I highlight something because I learned something incredible from it, hence the very reason the person is on my podcast - because I wanted to learn from them and they are heroes of mine.In one case this week I had to track down a book released in the UK but not yet released until next month in the US.In another case, the person I was interviewing didn't have a book out but I read through all the articles he was involved in and the media strategy he had helped set up for his company.I also watch every interview the person has ever done.This is critical because I want to make sure I don't repeat any questions they are already bored of answering. The last thing I want is for them to think, "ugh, I can't believe he asked me that".I know from prior interviews I've watched what questions they've been asked and what questions they are totally sick of.Also by looking at prior interviews, I know the stuff they are just beginning to reveal and have never revealed before. This gives me ideas of where to explore further.B) GET THEM COMFORTABLEWhen I interviewed Peter Thiel, at first he was busy so I had to call back. When he got on the phone my first question was, "So what have you been up to today?" And that led to a fun conversation.Sometimes I say, "I've been looking forward to this but first I have a beef to settle with you." And the "beef" is usually a story where we had briefly intersected and I make fun of it. With Jim Norton I had to remind him of what people thought of him the day he started fourth grade.Always the first line or two has to put them at ease.AN IMPORTANT POINTt: I'm almost always recording before they realize I'm recording. Often the best gems are when the "pressure of the interview" hasn't started yet.I don't do this to fool anyone. I tell them afterwards and they usually laugh. Because usually the casual talk is where we really begin to relate.C) SET EXPECTATIONSI usually tell people right in the beginning what I hope my listeners or readers will get out of the interview.I don't want to just promote someone's book or show. I want to learn something. I want my listeners to learn something. I want to laugh. And then...D) I WANT THE PERSON I INTERVIEW TO LEARN SOMETHINGI don't like an interview to beME: questionPERSON: Deep answerJust like I want to have conversations with my friends rather than interviews, I like the interviews on my podcast to be like conversations.An interview is like a guided tour through someone's life or a particular work they have recently done.A conversation is an exploration that two people have where hopefully they can meet somewhere in the middle and be curious about each other's answers. That's my ideal.Like anyone, the people I'm interviewing have problems in their lives. I like to hear those problems and offer my two cents, whether they help or not. I want to make someone think without coming across as annoying.This is very difficult. But if I'm listening close enough to what they are saying I can hear the small sorrows and successes that are in the spaces between words. That is often where the real interview takes place.E) CURIOSITYI hate when someone says something I don't understand. I don't hate them, I hate the feeling I get when I don't understand something.It's like this itch on my back that I can't quite reach.If I'm curious about something, I'll ask. Some interviewees (Wayne Dyer) if you just hit "Go" he'll talk for an hour. But I get curious about almost everything he says.I want my life to be better so I need to understand everything. And if I think he's missing something or skipping something because he's speaking at level I don't understand, then I stop him until I understand.If you are afraid to be curious for fear of offending them or interrupting too much then there is no point in doing the interview.As an example, when Coolio mentioned he broke his cocaine habit, I was really curious. It's not easy to break a habit like that. So I had to interrupt him when he had already gone onto the next thought and say, "How did you break that habit?"F) DON'T HAVE AN AGENDAI never argue with someone I'm interviewing. I'm not an investigative journalist. Nor do I really have any strong opinions about anything. But if I'm not sure I agree, then I want to know why someone thinks the way they do. I want to learn something from it.There's always many sides to every story. Who am I to judge?If you turn away from the sun, you're in the dark. But the sun is still there, shining equally on everyone. In an interview we're all equally lit in the sun, no matter what thoughts go through our head or what experiences we've had.The listeners are the sun. I can either show them light, or darkness. And they can't see if it's just darkness.G) ALWAYS BRING IT BACK DOWN TO THE LISTENERYou know who your audience is. The person you're interviewing either doesn't know or doesn't care. I don't say this in a critical way. Their business is their business and your business is your audience.Make sure when things go on a tangent, that some value is extracted for the audience. Pull it back.H) REPEAT AND SUMMARIZEEvery now and then take what has been said and try to summarize in verbal bullet points the value that has been expressed in a down-to-Earth useable fashion.This gives them an opportunity to either agree, expand on, or correct.I) ASK THEM SOMETHING THEY HAVE NEVER BEEN ASKED BEFOREI like it when someone I've interviewed calls me later and says, "Friends are listening to this and saying they've never seen this side of me."You have to dig in your preparation and listen during the interview to find a path that they have never been taken on before. On that path is the gold.J) WHAT DID YOU LEARN?Right after an interview is done, I almost completely forget it. So I always try to take notes or write down things right afterwards else I'll forget.If I do all of the nine other things above then I will definitely get value for myself out of the interview. Things I've learned that can improve my life.An interview is never just audio, or video, or text. It's everything and you have to remember the critical points, the points that scream, "LEARN THIS!" that you can then repeat in every medium where you publish the interview.Many of these things are completely unexpected. From almost everyone I've interviewed I learn something new that was not planned, either by me and in many cases by the interviewee. These are often the most valuable to share.---One time, way back when, I was interviewing a professional dominatrix for my 3am project. She said something I never forget. "People don't pay me for the things I do to them. People pay me so that when it's over I leave."Don't drag the interview out hoping for more gems than might exist there.When it's over, leave. Hopefully at the end you have a new friend and you've learned many new things and have had a fun time and will make people laugh and give people value.The best interview is when all the equipment is off, you take a deep breath, and you realize that in the past hour your life just got a little bit better.