lørdag, februar 24, 2007

年宵的牛车水

I was tidying up my bedroom when in the dusty obscure corners of my little boudoir I chanced upon a few books which contain my past Chinese writings, all written during my secondary school days, when I was around 15 years old. The pages have turned slightly yellow and are beginning to emanate an elusively pungent aroma of all these years, and reading them arouses in me a warm sense of familiarity. I loved it whenever we were asked by our Chinese teacher to write essays - I wrote with genuine enthusiasm and great earnestness - it was a respite for me, from my school life which was otherwise not even remotely interesting; and I truly enjoyed the entire process of writing.

There are times when I look back at my past works and cringe uncontrollably in disgust, as I wonder how I could have written such embarrassing things, but now I am learning to view them with more maturity and acceptance, and recognize them as inevitable products of a process of growing up. Perhaps I will one day succeed in reading them without any shame which prompts me to deny my past, and I will come to love, forgive and accept who I once was.

Anyway, I am thinking of posting some of my past essays here. Here is the first one:

今年年宵与以往不一样。绝迹了三十七年的爆竹终于可光明正大地露面了,惹得大家争睹爆竹燃放时的惊鸿一瞥。我当然不例外,十五年的青葱岁月让我抵不住对那一根根艳红色竹子的强烈好奇心,于是在年宵时挤入茫茫人海中,尝试一睹习俗的风光,唯碍于只有一点五四米的身高让我无法贪婪地将一切都完整地收入眼帘,形成完美无瑕的回忆。

那天,到达牛车水时,四处人山人海,人潮络绎不绝。我沿着狭窄的行人道缓缓地走着,一股浓郁的苦涩香味扑鼻而来,立即教人精神抖擞。旧时的咖啡店依旧健在,咖啡香诉说着古老的故事,使人倍感亲切。这算是一种安慰吗?应该是吧。咖啡店里陈旧的油漆已经逐渐剥落,望着赤裸裸的红砖,听着天花板上吊式风扇速度极缓地旋转着沧桑,它的哀伤是一种寄托,凭借着它的存在,拼凑并咀嚼着当年牛车水的风景面貌。

在牛车水,两楼旧式店屋依然可见,许多也保留了原貌。昔时,这是华族社群聚集之地,热闹温暖;但如今这里已变成了一个商业观光景点,尤其在佳节时期,牛车水的装饰更是俗气与商业化,到处张灯结彩,被渲染成了一片亮眼却庸俗的深红色。我开始了解到有资格招摇过市的,未必真正是雍容华贵的代表。牛车水,你久违了的古色古香,是否在翻新计划的威胁之下,已连苟延残喘的余地也失去了?从前从前,鞋匠、打铁师傅和街边小贩都赋予牛车水别具意义的生命,但这却遗憾地演变成了曾经,只能往回忆里的隙缝推塞。

突然,一阵巨响划破了夜空,人们已经开始燃放爆竹了。第一次见证爆竹的壮观,我心中发出了兴奋的惊叹,快乐原来是会让人窒息的。可惜,心中却缺少了一份感动。毕竟,我从未见过爆竹的模样,对于它的死而复生也无法产生任何感情的澎湃。就只是很单纯、很纯粹、很幼稚的快乐,像小孩子在收到圣诞礼物时所感受到的快乐,但却缺少了那种期待的感动。在那两万人的人潮中,相信有许多人也与爆竹素昧平生,又何有两万人的感情澎湃?更何况,政府现在允许爆竹再度问世,更多的,是一种社会现象,而非单纯是对习俗的重视了。

放鞭炮的声响在墨黑的天空中喧宾夺主,埋没了星星的存在。放鞭炮象征的是中华文化在本土的崛起,至少政府在开放社会之际已对中华艺术与习俗显示出前所未有的包容,但这一切是否已经太迟了?人们只愿驻足享受那昙花一现的美丽和仅长十二秒的鞭炮声,却遗忘了背后的蕴义,已经无法再与我们的文化取得共鸣。有些璀璨,是肉眼看不见的,稍不留心,便稍纵即逝。我追求的,只是一个装满回忆的牛车水——每一个街道都闪烁着记忆的光芒,每一条小巷都充满历史的味道——而不是经过大刀阔斧的改革后的牛车水。于是,我披上梦的金缕衣,向隙缝中微露的曙光奔去。

“金色的余晖两手空空,
在土色的大地上奔跑。
冷寂的夜色一无所有,
却生成喧闹的都市。
梦的使行者行囊羞涩,
却骑着月色之马,
向丰盛的希望奔去。”

以上是本土作家陈志锐先生的诗作。我觉得诗里的“冷寂的夜色一无所有,/却生成喧闹的都市”充分地表达了商业化的牛车水在喧嚣之中所隐埋的落寞。搞建设、搞改革,切勿忘了保存古物,也千万不能牺牲了我们的文化。亮丽的外表不一定能吸引观光者,其中的内涵与回忆才极为珍贵。如果连这份牵引着我们回忆都失去了,我们还有什么可以依偎?

而我,即化身为陈志锐先生文中的主角,抱着希冀,盼能再看见自然、韵味四溢的牛车水。

5 kommentarer:

Anonym sagde ...

Miao, I've added you in Livejournal already! :)

- Wen

Blog in English, auf Deutsch sagde ...

我还以为你写的呢,文笔优雅生动,笔触颇富生活情感,赫赫。。

Miao sagde ...

Blog in English, aif Deutsch: 确实是我写的呀!

heartinsanfrancisco sagde ...

When I was a teenager, I was influenced by poets of the day like Yevtushenko, Neruda and Engel, who tended to be sentimental as overripe fruit, and by my own awakening hormones.

Still, the pleasure and as you stated, respite, of writing more than made up for any deficiencies in my prose. It still does.

Thank you for visiting my blog. I'll be back soon.

Miao sagde ...

heartinsanfrancisco: I love Neruda too! I wanted to buy a copy of his collected poems but the price is waaay too expensive. :/ A whopping S$60+!