THE MAN WITH THE SCORPION TATTOO

He was my grandfather, the man, the man with the scorpion tattoo, they say he sailed across seas from India to Malaysia, he married not once but thrice, they say he killed, he was fearless, he struck and stung like a scorpion, he would smoke beedi, crunch on betel leaves laced with tabacco paste, when the time was ripe he came to Singapore with my grandma, he worked, he fed the family, gave us the gift of culture and tradition, he died a few years back, he was a kind man, a man of value and independence, most of all he was a family man and before he died, he reminded me, knowing my restless nature, he said these words to me: Remember, come home, and he left to be with the Destroyer in his celestial abode, he was my grandfather, he was the man with the scorpion tattoo.

 

© elancharan

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