The desire to go back home to India was stronger than ever before. It’s not that I was stuck in Singapore a few years ago. But I wouldn’t be singing this song today had the situation been a bit less favourable. So here’s what happened to me on my trip to Singapore.It was Ultra Singapore, a part of the Ultra Music Festival, an outdoor electronic music festival. I was there with a local friend (Indian Singaporean), and a couple more friends from India. Ultra Singapore was launched a couple of years back (then), and we had been planning this trip for quite some time. Passports and visas all ready, itinerary all set for a week-long visit – there was going to be a lot of outdoor activities, and souvenir shopping. D-Day arrived and we reached the venue well ahead of time. It was across from the Marina Bay Sands Hotel. The festival goers just kept coming, and soon enough, the venue was packed with festival goers. The venue was more than ready to host the two-day electronic dance music festival. Multiple stages, thousands of people, blinding lights, heart-thumping beats blaring, it was a sea of people. And in that sea I got lost somehow.
Not to sound too dramatic, but I got ‘separated’ from my group by the incoming sea of people and the blinding, thumping, whatever that was. When I realised what happened, it was too late, I was not able to find my friends. I touched my pant’s pocket for my phone and to my absolute horror, realised that I had given my phone, passport and my purse to my Singaporean friend for safe-keeping. My friend was supposed to give it to her trusted driver. Why couldn’t we keep our things on our person? That’s because there was this rule of carrying only clear plastic bags with our belongings inside it. And none of us cared to check festival rules before heading out. Fine print…It was fine print. So long story short, My everything was with someone, somewhere, and I had no idea where they all went. Did I panic? Yes. Did I cry? YesWhat else did I do, you ask? So after cursing myself for the utterly stupid move in a foreign country, I found the way out, the way to the EXIT. I knew I was not going to find my friends there as it was already dark. I didn’t have my phone on me, no passport, no wallet, just a now-very-useless empty water bottle. I walked out and remembered the landmark we decided to reach IN CASE one of us gets lost. At the time we had laughed about it. I reached the landmark, a shopping complex of some sort, found myself a bench to sit on, and cried for some more time. I waited almost two hours, and contemplated going to the High Commission of India in Singapore. I sat down and prayed my most fervent prayer till date, for a way out. Not a lie – the hopeless wait was one of the most confusing times for me. I was so mentally distraught, I didn’t know what I was even doing. But I did what my mind, at that time, thought was the best thing. I approached two South Asian-looking gentlemen, and requested if I may use their phone to call my friends. Yes, I know, but bear with me. My grand idea was to call my friends…while completely forgetting the fact that I didn’t know their phone numbers. The heart hoped for a miracle, and the eyes shed some more tears.
Singapore at night
There I was bawling my eyes out in front of two very confused gentlemen, who were now feeling awkward to ask their phone back from a clearly deranged wailing person. But once I calmed down a bit, they asked me what’s wrong. I explained my situation the best way I could, and that I was from India. It turned out they were from Bangladesh. They asked me if I remembered the hotel I was booked in. I did. They checked something on their phones and told me how much a cab would cost. And handed me a few Singapore Dollars. I couldn’t believe what was happening, and maybe I looked too confused. One of them offered to come along in a cab with me, in case the money they gave me was not enough. They were not tourists, they were a couple of Bangladeshis, working in Singapore, with limited funds (this I came to know later). My friends were nowhere to be found, it was getting late, I was afraid, so I did what I usually tell everyone, especially solo female travellers, to never do – get in a cab with a stranger, in a foreign city. I prayed another prayer for protection and got in a cab with Mr. Irfan Hossein. After a 15-minute ride, I saw my hotel from afar and screamed, “my hotel, that’s my hotel.” Mr. Hossein came with me to the reception, just in case there was any language issue. After explaining everything, the hotel staff contacted my Singaporean friend whose number was registered at the time of booking. Turns out, my friends came to our designated meeting spot outside the festival venue, not too long after Mr. Hossein and I left.Without my passport or phone or money for a cab in Singapore; I got help from an unexpected place. And what did I learn from this experience? Always read the fine print. And that in a world full of bad and ugly, good still exists. But should we always take some sort of chance? And leave things to prayers? The answer is a resounding No. Hence, always read the fine print.
