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Fang Rong - the half‑tailor, half‑barber house along Bedok Road

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Many in our Bedok kampong community will remember Fang Rong, at 30 Bedok Road - that modest little house which once operated as half tailor, half barber, sitting just to the right (from the orientation of this photograph) of Uncle Velu’s Indian barber shop at 34 Bedok Road. From Jayne Krishna’s years living with her grandfather Velu in the 70’s and 80’s, we learn that the barber‑owner here was Hainanese, living on the premises with his family. Jayne also recalls that several tailors came and went over the years - a reminder of how trades in the kampong shifted with time, opportunity, and circumstance. From our conversations with Ron Ho, a more intimate portrait of one of the earlier tailors emerges. In the late 1950s, the tailor was a man named Ah   Kow, married with two young children. He was part of a tontine community - known variously as hwei ( 银会 ) in Chinese, duit kutu in Malay, or kootu in Tamil - a communal savings system that helped families manage their finances long b...
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The building beside the Bedok Police Post

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Whenever the old Bedok Police Post or Police Station comes up in conversation, our attention almost inevitably shifts to the building beside it - a structure so familiar to kampong residents that it felt like part of the station’s own silhouette. Thanks once again to Jayne Krishna, whose 1985 photograph preserves this humble landmark, we are able to share its memory here. From our chats with both Jayne and our Rumah Bombay  neighbour Abu   Bakar, we learn that the left side of the building housed the dhobi (laundry) shop, while the right side was home to a sound and TV repair shop - clearly visible in Jayne’s 1985 photo under the Skylight Trading   Co. signboard. Though the structure is long gone - replaced by the car park of Bedok Corner Food Centre - it remains vivid in memory as a simple working house that stood beside the police station (on the left of this photo but covered with foliage) for decades, supporting everyday life through laundry and electronic repair work.
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Singapore Becomes a City - 22 September 1951

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Seventy‑five years ago, on the morning of 22 September 1951 , our late father - just 21 years old then - made his way with friends to the Padang , joining thousands who gathered to witness a milestone in Singapore’s story. Before them stood the grand façade of the Supreme Court , its dome gleaming in the sun, as officials prepared for the ceremony that would formally confer Singapore’s new status: no longer a Town, but a City , proclaimed by His Royal Majesty King George VI . In the photograph above, you can almost feel the atmosphere of that day - the crowds on the field, the sense of anticipation, the pride of a young generation watching their home take a symbolic step forward. Our father was among them, an eyewitness to a moment that would be remembered for decades. He didn’t just attend; he documented. Quite a few photographs were taken by him and his friends, capturing the ceremony, the people, and the energy of the Padang. These images - once kept in our Bedok kampong house ...
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In Loving Memory of Aunt Annie

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We have always loved this studio portrait of our dad’s eldest sister - a photograph taken around 1950 , now lovingly preserved in the National Library Archives . In it, Aunt Annie sits poised on a wooden chair, dressed in a light‑coloured patterned dress with soft puffed sleeves and a neat collar. The floral and bird motifs across her fabric feel almost symbolic now: gentle, hopeful, quietly expressive. Her hair is styled in graceful waves, the kind of mid‑century elegance that speaks of care, pride, and a young woman stepping confidently into adulthood. She would have been about 25 here - serene, self‑possessed, and mature beyond her years. Even the way she holds her handbag, resting lightly on her lap, suggests a woman who understood her place in the world, who carried herself with dignity and quiet assurance. There is a stillness in her posture, a calm strength in her gaze, that makes this portrait feel almost timeless. And yet, just a few years after this photograph was taken,...
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When the Flood Became a Playground

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In the monsoon season of December 1986 to January 1987, most of Singapore escaped the severe floods of earlier decades - yet for Isnimah and her family at 31H Jalan Greja, the waters still found their way in. The flood rose around their house and its surrounds, reaching knee ‑ high levels for adults, and waist ‑ deep for any child aged ten or twelve. Their home sat close to the large drains running beside the Bedok Methodist Church compound, leading all the way to Sungei Bedok. Whenever the rains came hard, everyone knew what would follow: the big drain would overflow, and the water would spill over into their homes. But for children, this was never only a story of inconvenience. Born and raised in the house at 31H, Isnimah lived there until she completed her PSLE at Bedok Primary School. And she remembers that year’s flood not with dread, but with a kind of sparkling anticipation - the thrill of waiting for the water to rise just enough so she and her cousins could leap in, spla...
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Remembering Nya Nya

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This is our paternal aunt - the one we affectionately call Nya Nya - the heartbeat of our Bedok kampong house. She was the neighbour‑connector, the one who somehow knew every household, every small story that made our kampong feel whole. When the skies darkened and the first drops began to fall, her familiar call of “Lo hor ah!” would ring across the neighbourhood. It was a sound everyone recognised - a gentle alert that laundry needed to be brought in, a reminder that someone was looking out for you. That was her way: always noticing, always caring. She planted tapioca trees in our garden so that future tea-times would be assured. She knew how to slaughter chickens and prepare the Hainanese chicken rice we loved, turning ordinary afternoons into meals that tasted like home. Her carrying heart extended far beyond family - even the stray dogs and cats around the kampong knew her kindness, and enjoyed a small morsel and a moment of affection. In this 1959 photograph , she sits ...
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Our Mother at 88 -A Kampong Journey

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Our mother turns 88 years old this week. She first stepped into our Bedok kampong house as a young bride of 22, in October 1960 , when she married our father. From that moment, her life became woven into the rhythms of the house - learning to partner her sisters‑in‑law in its daily motions, caring for her mother‑in‑law, raising her two sons, and eventually guiding the entire household after our grandmother’s passing. Through the decades, she kept pace with the movements of kampong life  - the laughter of neighbours who became friends, the shared meals, the quiet evenings when the house seemed to breathe with its own memory. Her grace was steady, her presence constant, her leadership gentle yet sure. We share here our favourite photograph of her, taken during her honeymoon on Penang Hill , October 1960. Seated against the cool daylight and the sweep of the bay below, she is radiant - poised, confident, and stunning. The image captures not just youth and beauty, but the beginni...
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