It was that stray chicken crossing the road in front of our car that triggered my long train of thoughts. Call it a reactionary response of my subconscious mind if you like. Not unlike when a cop character played by Shah Rukh Khan stumbled upon an old portrait on the wall and after a series of quick flashbacks, he realised that the crook he was about to kill was his own brother. Maybe I've watched one too many Hindustani movies, but the sight of that runaway chicken brought back vivid memories.

Such as chasing chickens out of the kitchen. All of a sudden, I was a nine year old boy again. You see, I was a kampung boy once, and my grandma used to ask me to chase away stray chickens that found their way into her kitchen. For a fleeting moment, I could almost feel the energy, the mere radiance of youth manifesting itself; being very much alive and full of optimism.

A time when people were able to take simple values for granted. When families were close knit and neighbours exchanged dishes everyday. A time when everyone knew everybody. And when each kenduri, or Hari Raya, always meant a big `gotong-royong'. It was a celebration of life in its purest sense.

My eldest daughter asked me why I was smiling, and it jolted me back to reality. Hastily, I put the car into gear and gently pressed the gas pedal. The stray chicken was no longer there, having crossed the road to wherever it had to go.