His name is 曾火桂, former A division national player of Singapore in the 1980s.
Tonight, I got wind this old soul passed away less than 2 weeks ago. He's been my erstwhile chess opponent and indirectly, teacher for many years. We'd sit at the cosy little bird-filled corner at blk 263 Sengkang, later Hougang Interchange, playing chess merrily till the evening. His old friends would supply him with another cigarette, he'd light it & puff away, warning me of being thoroughly refreshed & that a good thrashing for me was coming. Initially, it was a miracle I could take him down in any game, given his old bag of 'street-tricks' picked up over many games and years. Now, I could hold more than my fort with him, but that's besides the point.
Truly, he's kept the flame of chess alive for me, more so the spirit of street chess: spontaneous, played anywhere without a care for the world. Zeng reminded me what it was like, being simultaneously young and old through a shared pastime.
Zen between two noses, two shared minds.
Last I played him was a month or so ago. Now he's mysteriously disappeared- I only got news tonight of his supposed passing.
I really owe it to him for my improvement in chess & the sheer pleasure of hours we exchanged rooks and cannons under the clouds. It is indeed my honor to have absorbed his skills.
If pawns could respawn at the end of the line, I'd trade all five on my chessboard for his renewed lease of life with God.
It is therefore only right I pay my last respects to him.
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