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The family story behind 30 Bedok Road - our “plank‑wall shophouse with zinc roof”

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In our earlier post, we introduced 30 Bedok Road, the modest shophouse known as Fang Rong, remembered by many as a half‑tailor, half‑barber establishment before redevelopment erased it from the landscape. What makes this little building especially meaningful to us is that it carried a connection to our own family. Houses can be owned, like ours at 10J Bedok Road – but we still had to pay monthly ground rent to our landlords, the Queks. And if we failed to make the monthly rent, the landlord reserved the right to have our house demolished – such was the precarious nature of living in kampongs in those days. Others like this shophouse was rented and the owner pays the ground rent on its behalf. Well, the owner of this shophouse at 30 Bedok Road was our grandfather. Before the renumbering exercise of the early 1960s, the property was known as 630‑A Bedok Road. Our grandfather purchased it in September 1950 for $4,700. He owned the structure, but still paid ground rent to the landowner...
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The Bread Man of Our Bedok Kampong

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The experience of having the neighbourhood Indian bread mama - our familiar uncle on wheels - come right up to our kampong houses was truly on another level. It always began with HEARING him before anything else: that bright bicycle bell, sometimes a cheeky horn, ringing through the stillness of our gravel paths. Only then would you SEE him pedalling steadily toward the side of our houses, easing his bicycle to a gentle stop. He would dismount in one fluid motion, flick the kickstand down, and flip open the wooden bread compartment behind him - transforming it instantly into a makeshift cutting table. And with that simple gesture came the unmistakable SMELL of freshly baked roti perancis (baguette), its crusty, golden aroma drifting toward us like an invitation. Our mother remembers that whenever she ordered an entire perancis , he would slice it horizontally from end to end, opening the warm loaf like a book. One side received a generous spread of Planta; the other, his own h...
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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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