The thing that is sometimes frustrating about Singapore is that its so darn small. And if you are Indian, its even smaller. Everywhere you go, you are bound to meet someone either related to you, related to someone related to you, or a friend, who after some analysis turns out to be related to you.

Really. Play 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon with every Indian person you meet, and chances are you will find the connection sooner or later.

Today, I forgot this. I decided I was only going to the NTUC in my neighbourhood, and I wouldn't meet anyone I know. So I didn't undo my Pippi Longstocking braids (one of them literally stood at a 45 degree angle to my head), wore my oldest, scruffiest orange T shirt, and flip flops.

I turn into the entrance to come face to face with one of my ex colleagues from SINDA. (yes, 6 degree gets even easier when you have worked with SINDA). He was in stylo mylo berms, polo shirt and "cooling glasses". I saw the look of "what the hell?" pass his eyes before the recognition and familiarity. I was mortified.

Thankfully Hanan was with me, and saved the day. The boy looks good regardless of what he is wearing and has a naturally pleasant demeanour, so I diverted the attention to him, and thus managed to salvage a really embarassing situation.

The moral of the story is - be prepared. Yes, like a good boy scout, be prepared to always be seen by the last person you expect to see. Or as my mother used to say,
"Wear clean underwear in case you get knocked down by a car, at least people will say," ah she was clean".

Eh?