Life in the Sanskrit lane

by Yeoh Siew Hoon

There I was sitting on the 70th floor of the Swissotel Stamford, having lunch in style at Jaan, the modern French restaurant that’s named after the Sanskrit word, “bowl”.

There’s nothing remotely Sanskrit about the restaurant of course nor its food – I left it to the chef to whip up his concoctions, such faith I have in these kitchen demi-gods – but it’s a great place to reflect on the meaning of life, mankind and civilisation in general.

I think it’s because of the height. It makes you ponder and look at things from up high.

For example, across the bay, you can see the scarred site that will soon be home to Singapore’s first casino.

I know, that’s not the first thing I am supposed to think about when I see it – don’t mention the C word – I am supposed to think Integrated Resort, theatre, convention space, retail shops, sky garden and all that.

But my mind naturally and automatically goes to the one thing that I believe will have the greatest impact on Singapore’s close-knit, tightly-controlled society.

A small step in the world scheme of things, but a giant step for this community of 4.5 million folks.

My first course is lemongrass mousse and lychee caviar – apt, I thought, for a place that has blended east and west so well that you hardly know where the line is these days.

My eye moves over and I spy the engineering feat that is the Singapore Flyer. At night, it glows like a curled-up pyschedelic centipede but by day, it is what it is – a huge wheel suspended in the sky.

They don’t want us to call it a Ferris wheel – I quote chairman of Singapore Flyer, Florian Bollen, in TravelMole Asia, “We don’t use the 
F-word” – but I think its Fate is sealed.

Across from me, I heard a voice say, “That’s our Ferris wheel.” A Singaporean man was proudly pointing out the wheel to his lunch guests.

They were obviously bankers – all they talked about was the stock market and interest rates. I heard “Soc Gen” mentioned three times. No meaning of life for these folks, just the colour of money.

My second course comes in a little red pot that has the word “chasseur” written on it – a little touch of “Chic Chinois”. It’s foie gras stir-fried with snails and mushrooms. A heady, artery-busting mix but who’s counting – it’s Chinese New Year, after all, and mushrooms represent prosperity.

From up at Jaan, you’ll also see the makings of the other “F” word that could also mean more Fortune for Singapore – the Formula 1 race track.

Tickets went on sale for the world’s first F1 night race on February 14 but came crashing to a standstill when computer systems collapsed.

Organisers said it was the overwhelming demand – of course they’d say that – but it left fans fuming.

(A total of 70,000 three-day passes, ranging from S$168 to S$1,388, were supposed to have gone on sale.)

I am debating whether to buy them or leave town. Either way, I feel confident I will prosper.

If I buy the tickets now, I can always flog them off at exorbitant prices to desperate folks. And if I leave town, I can always let my apartment out for at least $1,000 a night to desperate friends.

Ruminating on the prospect of my future riches, my main course arrives – grilled sea bass resting on a bed of noodles. Golden skin for wealth and long noodles for longevity.

Looks like I am all set for the year of the rodent. Gong Xi Fa Cai or bhavathE api noothana samvathsarasya shubhaashayaha.

That’s Sanskrit for “wish you too a happy new year” – at least I hope it is

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