Wandering through Singapore’s incredible melting pot of cultures, I found myself in Little India. I was on my way to photograph the famous, colorful Arab Street when something unexpected caught my eye.
A Hidden Mosque Among Singapore’s High-Rise Buildings
Tucked between modern high-rise buildings stood a beautiful mosque. From the small square courtyard at its entrance, the view was limited, so I started looking for a higher vantage point. A quiet street next to the mosque was lined with two-story buildings, and one of them seemed promising. I stepped inside the closest one and headed upstairs.
An Unlikely Photography Spot
The first floor housed a beauty salon, but I kept climbing to the second and final level. At the top of the stairs, I faced a glass door. Inside, a few tables were set, but the lights were off—the restaurant looked closed. Still, I tried the door. To my surprise, it opened.
As I walked in, I heard voices, laughter, and the clatter of pots coming from the kitchen. That’s when I noticed a window overlooking the mosque. Jackpot.
I tiptoed into the kitchen and greeted the two cooks. Smiling awkwardly, I asked if I could take a photo from their window.
A Moment of Silence… and Laughter
The room fell silent. They stopped talking, stopped laughing, and stared at me in disbelief. For a few seconds—long seconds—it felt like time had frozen. Clearly, photographers asking to shoot from a kitchen window weren’t part of their daily routine, especially before opening hours.
Then the female cook burst out laughing. “Sure, sure! Take a photo!” she said, laughing as she opened the window for me.
Photography, Travel, and Unexpected Human Connections
While she returned to cooking, I took several photos of the Abdul Gafoor Mosque, framed perfectly from that unexpected viewpoint. When I was done, the other cook asked where I was from. When I said I was Italian, he asked how my family was doing. In that moment, I realized I hadn’t spoken to my mum in a while, my father in ages, my brothers—who knows—and my husband was still somewhere in the air, flying back to Spain.
I kept all that to myself and simply replied that everyone was doing great. I asked about his family, and he happily said they were all fine. We both smiled, as if we had just shared some small but meaningful victory.
Leaving Little India with a Story
After thanking them for their kindness, I stepped back onto the street, immediately wrapped again in Singapore’s familiar, sticky heat. I’m sure the two cooks are still laughing in that kitchen, remembering the strange Italian photographer who once showed up, unannounced, asking permission to take photos from their window.