CHOCKALINGAM Palaniappan Chettiar came into my life when I was in Primary 1.

A quiet boy with thick glasses, centre-parted hair and slightly goofy teeth, he was an avid reader, the quintessential nerd, who spent recess-time with that inevitable book in hand while his classmates, including myself, were playing
games in the noonday sun.

But Chocko was interesting to listen to. He regaled us with the stories he had read. Few classmates listened. But I did.

It is said that we cannot choose our parents but we can pick our friends. Throughout my life, even until today, I have had Indians as my best friends or closest pals.

Recently, I began to wonder why.

Why did I prefer the company of Nabena Badalghe Dayananda in Primary 6 or that of Alfred Rayappen Gunalan in secondary school over all others, mainly Chinese boys and a smattering of Malay kids?

Or why, when I was in the sixth form, did I spend the most time with three classmates - Dunston Stanislaus Ayadurai, Herbert Victor Morais and Mervyn Rupert Mendis - whose homes I visited often, and whose parents welcomed me. I know much fewer Indian women, mainly because they preferred not to let any boy, Indian included, get too close.

In sixth form, I had a schoolmate, Lakshmi Natarajan, who on some days spent an hour after school teaching a group of girls Indian dance. A few boys, including myself, asked if we could watch. She said yes.

It was quite a thrill to watch her svelte figure and the sinuous way her slim arms moved to music.

Oh, how the bells on her ankles tinkled.

In working life, I had more friends from other races. Yet, a senior colleague in the Ministry of Culture, Mr V.T. Arasu, was the person I talked to most. He taught me many Tamil proverbs one of which is this: Vidhiyai madhiyaal vellalaam.

It means the positive actions of an individual with a strong mind can ward off the ill effects of fate.

Later, at The Straits Times, R. Chandran became my constant after-hours companion, together with a Chinese reporter, Edmund Teo, and later a Conrad Maria Raj.

So what do my Indian friends have in common?

I think, first of all, they are very articulate and have an opinion about everything, which they often air with passion and conviction. When engaged in such debates, usually with mellowing rounds of whisky or beer, they display coruscating wit with agile use of words, innuendo and repartee.

Since, like them, I enjoy the clever use of the English language, I find these sessions a feast for the mind - a cerebral repast I hardly ever get from my non-Indian pals, most of whom don't drink anyway.

My Indian friends also introduced me to their siblings and parents. This is how I got the first taste of payasam from Herbert's mum. I have lost touch with a few Indian pals.

I wonder if Lakshmi still dances and is still as lissome. And I wonder if Chockalingam has long had orthodontic care and is today a tycoon somewhere in the world.

From young, he already looked the sort who would do well in life.

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"Foreigners should be kept at arm's length "