PSLE: Helping a wheelchair-bound man on the MRT train

Darkness set in. The fluorescent lights in the block of flats nearby lit up simultaneously. It was like magic. I was about to enter the train when I noticed an elderly man whose face was etched with wrinkles and his grey hair was neatly parted to one side. He was sitting on a shiny wheelchair. He was struggling to move forward into the train but the stubborn wheelchair refused to budge. "Doors closing..." a crisp clear voice boomed from the speakers.

 

I was about to help him when all of a sudden, a group of teenagers clad in shirts and baggy trousers stepped forward. "Uncle, let us help you," one of the teenagers blurted.

 

The wrinkly man smiled with gratitude, revealing a set of grossly discoloured teeth, many of which were missing. To my horror, they pushed the poor old fellow into the cabin and thrust him around as if he was a trolley! Other commuters gaped in horror but no one intervened.

 

I mustered my courage and shouted at the top of my lungs, "Stop!" But it was to no avail. The antics failed to stop. Immediately, I sprinted towards them but got a hard shove in the ribs and flew to the ground like a heavy sack of rice. It felt like Bruce Long, the kungfu master, was among one of them.

 

Not one who gave up easily, I dashed towards them again but this time, they stepped forward and glowered, spewing a string or vulgarities at me. A burly teenager then grabbed me by the collar and dangled me in the air as if I were a rag doll. The others sneered and laughed at my misfortune. Still, no one helped.

 

 I thought those passengers must be cold blooded creatures! None of them was willing to lift a finger. “God, are you blind? Send some help. PLEASE!” I prayed under my breath.

 

Out of the blue, a muscular commuter entered the cabin. He noticed the commotion and bulldozed his way through the crowd. He pinned the beefy teenager down and picked me up. The other teenagers tried to start a fight with him but with a few swift moves, he rendered them all to the ground, rolling in pain and pleading for mercy. He then forced them to apologise to the old man - one at a time. The commuter warned them not to be mean again and ordered them to scram. They nodded and scampered off as quick as mice.

 

I was so relieved that it was finally over. I turned to my hero to say 'thank you' but he had mysteriously disappeared! I did not even have a chance to express my gratitude. How did he know that the teenagers were mean to the old man when he did not see it? How did he go so fast when the exit door was a distance away? Perhaps, just perhaps, I had just seen - an angel - in disguise.

 

Risa Lee 5/1