I’m over at Speakeasy, the Wall Street Journal‘s media, entertainment, celebrity, and arts blog today. My short, personal essay is titled “The Last Train to Tanjong Pagar” and is about how a single Tweet launched a memorable journey.
I’m the product of many migrations. (Aren’t we all?) Decolonization and war drove my grandparents’ generation away from their ancestral homes in present-day Pakistan; the promise of the American dream lured my parents’ generation to the New World; globalization has flung members of my generation, such as my husband and I, thousands of miles away from home.
I arrived on this island, as so many do, through Changi Airport, Singapore’s gleaming, modern, efficient airport. Not too long ago, Tanjong Pagar station was the point of entry for so many travelers, immigrants, and workers to Singapore. I do feel a kinship with all of those who came here to make a life, regardless of how they traveled.
And quite unlike a number of my fellow travelers that particular day, I didn’t grow up hearing the train whistle past my bedroom window several times a day or take the overnight train to visit family in Kuala Lumpur. However, just like many of them, I too wanted to create new memories and be part of something larger than myself.
Continue reading here.
And if you are so inclined, please leave your own memories of the final ride in the comments here or at Speakeasy.