I came across a cane the other day while cleaning up my messy house. This cane, which once gave me pain, is now suffering from old age. Its appearance has changed. Its edges are frayed. Finding it was like meeting an old man who was once strong, stout and manly. I remember that the cane used to be hung proudly in our living room. But that was more than a decade ago and it was now being kept in a box of rubbish. But I am sure I will still recognise it whenever and wherever I see it, for I have a grudge against it. While I was holding and swinging the cane in my hands, some images came to mind: Mum had a stern face and I had heavy legs. I was walking hesitantly home, where mum, in her longyi wrapped high up to her breasts, ready to take bath and with arms akimbo, was waiting for me with flashing eyes. The sharp sound of the cane hit my eardrums and I felt a smart sensation on my calves. Mum was very ambitious for me when I was young. Moreover, she always wanted to get