Kurt Ganapathy heads up to the top of the National Gallery Singapore to give you a bird’s-eye preview of this year’s parade.
The Singapore Bicentennial has been commemorated with the tagline “From Singapore to Singaporean” in mind, and the National Day Parade for 2019 is very much in keeping with this sentiment.
With the theme “Our Singapore”, the parade returns to the historic Padang for just the third time this decade.
The country’s 54th birthday party celebrates Singaporeans of all races, ages, backgrounds and abilities while also acknowledging the pioneers, places and organisations that have helped to shape the place we call home.
Here’s what you can look forward to at this year’s parade. Happy National Day to all Singaporeans! Special thanks to Smoke & Mirrors at the National Gallery Singapore for helping to make this story possible.
Photography: Kurt Ganapathy
Curation: Arman Shah
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![[Content warning – this profile piece discusses the subject of suicide that may be sensitive and potentially triggering. Reader discretion is advised. Information about seeking help is available at the end of the carousel post. Stay safe]
“My brother died 8 years ago. I was at home when I found out. It was a Friday night, and I was on a long-distance call with my partner who was in Europe at the time. At 1am, I got up from bed to go to the toilet. That’s when I saw my mum crying alone in the living room.
My mum isn’t a particularly emotional person. I’ve probably seen her cry three times my whole life. I was worried and concerned, of course, and asked what’s going on. She turned to me and said, ‘I have bad news. Joel died.’
When a sibling dies unexpectedly, it takes time for you to process the news. And then you realise that your family will never be the same again. You will never be full or complete anymore. There is only brokenness. And that was the first emotion that hit me really hard.
The next morning, we got more details, and I learnt that he killed himself. When someone commits suicide, family is required to identify the body at the mortuary. My mum said, ‘Look, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.’ And I’m thinking, how can I let you do this alone?!
Even though I could sense a heaviness in the air around her, my mother looked relatively composed. But when they wheeled in the body, she simply broke. She kept saying that it’s not him. It’s not him. It doesn’t look like him. I had never seen that side of her before.
My mother was always put together, but at that moment, she sounded like a young mother who had just lost her newborn baby. It was less heartbreaking that I lost my brother, and more painful that I had to see her that way.
When my brother was 12, he moved out of the house and lived with my grandmother. I never knew why. Maybe it’s because we weren’t well-to-do. Maybe it’s because our parents didn’t have the best of relationships. I was his younger sister, but I didn’t know much about him.
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