there's a really sweet couch my neighbour has placed outside their home. that's where i normally smoke other than at the kitchen window. usually, it's quiet and the only thing you can hear is the general sounds of life that God has piped into the limited soundtrack of the world. but just now, my downstairs neighbour was quarelling in tamil for some reason. and they were throwing metallic kitchen utensils around the house. or at least they were throwing something metallic. which then reminded me about something characteristically chinese that my colleagues in brunei used to tell me.

back in hongkong, there were many parents that were clueless as to what name they would give their child. so it's times like these that the hongkies (being asians), would emphasize their unity in strength. the relatives would organize gatherings where they would have to bring any random kitchen object as an offering. you could present like pots, pans, ladels, calypots, rice cookers, etc. brings a new meaning to potluck eh?

and what they would do, is they would throw these various bric-a-brac of crockeries together and against each other. and here's the important bit: they need to listen to the sounds when clay meets metal. or perhaps when metal hits floor. or even worse, metal and clay hits human.

and thus Tang Kok Piang was born. and similarly a Kok Ah Piang was born with someone sustaining an injury. don't ask me about Yang Yang though, that's China.

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