FROM where they were, gathered along the river bank, the crowd couldn't see much of the corpse.

It lay, mostly covered under a white cloth, on the banks of the Kallang River under the arches of the bridge, a forlorn sight.

Only the calves and the feet, ghastly white, were visible.

But the 100-strong crowd at the Kolam Ayer Bridge gawked - transfixed.

Some boys had spotted the body earlier, slowly floating down the river. That was at 4pm, at this picturesque fishing spot at Kallang Bahru Block 64.

A crowd had gathered quickly, and the questions abounded. Was he drunk? Was he murdered? Did he trip and fall?

The body was floating face down. Intriguingly, to the gawkers, it was not clothed.

Cleaner Rosman Adiman, 44, believed someone had beaten up the man and thrown him into the river.

'His face looked bruised,' he said.

Housewife Siti Wardah, 38, wondered about the man and the life he led.

'I think he has fair skin. He must be Chinese,' she said. 'He looks middle-aged too. I saw some white hair.'

At dusk on the river bank, there were questions, but no answers.

Then, quietly, from out of the crowd, a man approached us, gestured upstream in the direction of Bendemeer Road and mumbled something incomprehensible.

Mr Juma'at Tahir, a 43-year-old cleaner with hearing and speech impairment, had a secret to share.

He pointed to the corpse, mimicked a man fishing, pointed to his eyes, and gestured upstream.

We followed.

We walked through the crowd, crossed an overhead bridge at Bendemeer Road, then a pedestrian crossing at Serangoon Road.

Ahead of us, Mr Juma'at walked silently, but urgently.

After covering 1km in 15 minutes, we arrived at a deserted stretch of the river just behind the dilapidated building that used to be the National Aerated Water Company.

Here, the shrubs were overgrown and the path cracked and narrow. Mr Juma'at's purposeful strides continued.

Then, at an old, nondescript pedestrian bridge, located behind some factories, he finally stopped.

Here, he pointed.

He was pointing to a dirty, narrow ledge under the bridge, with no standing headroom.

Mr Juma'at squatted down near the spot, which you could get to only by climbing over the green railing.

Fishing, he mimicked. Fell in. Dozed off.

We looked around. There was a red plastic bag on a nearby grass patch, with some leftover food.

But where was the rod and the bait, we asked with our hands.

Mr Juma'at pointed to the river.

Where were you, we asked.

Unnatural death

On the bridge above the man, he indicated, folding his arms and resting them on an imaginary railing.

Why didn't you call the police? He pointed to his empty pockets.

Why didn't you do anything to save the man? He mimicked the man floating motionlessly.

There were more clues, somewhere in there, but we couldn't get anything more out of him.

Police later confirmed that the body found was of a Chinese man in his 50s. They are investigating the case as an unnatural death.

We followed Mr Juma'at back, and thanked him. Night had fallen and most of the crowd at the scene had dispersed.

The conversations of those that remained was already drifting to matters of the week just passed. Police officers sat at a playground bench, reviewing some notes.

And in the distance, the silhouette of a man lingered.

Alone, unsure, as if stealing a final look, as if wanting to share a secret.

He waited a little while, then turned and disappeared.

This article was first published in The New Paper on Nov 22, 2008.