Sorry I took you for granted: S'pore teen, 14, in Boys’ Home wants to make mum proud when he gets out

A teenage boy walks onstage. He is all animated emotion, hopping from foot to foot, trying to pull himself together, find his words amid the tears.

Malik (not his real name), 14, addresses his mother sitting in the audience. His voice cracks as he promises to be a better son in future.

"Don't cry now, Mama. Only cry once I succeed in life. I love you!"

He steps back as another boy takes the mic. One by one, they address their loved ones — spelling out promises, regrets, dreams, apologies.

This is the Theatre for Dreams. It's not really a performance.

The boys aren't really actors, either. Each one is a resident at the Singapore Boys' Home.

Difficult home life

Malik entered the Boys' Home about a year ago.

His life at home was, and still is, complicated. His parents are separated and the family suffers financial problems. While his father still lives at home, they are estranged from each other.

He has three siblings, two younger brothers and one elder.

Malik's very close to his mum, a petite woman with a gentle demeanour. "She's the only one working [in the family]," he says.

He's visibly emotional as he talks about how she perseveres through the struggles in life, refuses to give up.

"She's been changing jobs, trying to find good pay, trying to provide for four people. It's quite hard."

A wrong turn in life

Seeking escape from his difficult home life, Malik fell into bad company.

He’d get into fights, take drugs, steal. The teen readily admits to having sought a “chaotic fun”.

“I liked to do thrilling stuff, as long as it gets my body feeling hyper and all. I won’t really care if it’s dangerous and all. Fun is most important to me, last time," he says.

His mother, the family's main breadwinner, was "always worried", even at work. Helpless to do anything.

“Usually, he would come back at around 3am or 4am," she tells us. "The police would ask me to pick him up wherever he is, wherever he usually hangs out with his friends.

"It made it hard for me to sleep soundly… [And] at work, I felt worried thinking about him out with his friends, stealing whatever he could find, until the police called."

Her long hours at work affected Malik too:

"Ibu (mother) [was] always somewhere else. I know she wants to do right, but sometimes, she forgets that I need her too."

Finally, in 2024, the teen was ordered to two years in the Boys' Home after a commission of offences, including theft and driving without a licence.

"My freedom was taken away," he recalls.

Life in the Boys' Home

Now, Malik’s days are tightly scheduled.

Days in the Boys’ Home begin at 6, school at 7. It’s lights out at 10pm.

Lessons follow the same curriculum as in MOE schools, except with a smaller student-teacher ratio. The facilities are largely the same: computer labs, art classes.

After lunch, there’s therapy, group programmes, meant to help the boys untangle their issues. Enrichment activities like soccer and drama, to keep them engaged and active.

It was the latter that introduced him to the Theatre for Dreams.

Malik admits that he was initially reluctant to participate. “I don’t really have interest in theatre,” he says.

“At the start, I didn’t want to be inside. But then after a while, it’s okay, quite enjoyable.”

There are fun parts to his new life. He's made friends here in the Boys' Home, who he says are understanding and interesting to talk to.

"They're not as bad as they look," he says.

"At some times, they can be monkeying around with me. But during serious times, they will get serious."

The show

Minutes before the show. Malik’s mum is waiting in the audience, dressed in a bright pink headscarf, her two younger sons at her side.

There’s a segment after the main performance where the boys will take the mic, one by one, and read out letters they’ve written to their loved ones.

Malik’s is addressed to his mother. “I’m feeling kind of excited, I want to see how the performance goes, see my mother’s reaction,” he confesses. “I’m looking forward to hearing what she’ll say.”

“I’ve never really said ‘I love you’ before. So this will be the first for everything.”

During the first part of the performance, the boys amble onstage, fidgeting with their booklets, trading banter. Looking for all the world like ordinary teenage boys, fiercely carefree.

But then their childhood photos begin to play onscreen, and they begin to speak.

“I want to stop hurting others,” one says. Another declares: “Mama, I want to take care of you.”

The letter-reading at the end is the most emotional by far. The boys clutch pieces of tissue paper in clenched fists, trip over their words.

Whenever they stumble, shouts of encouragement come from the audience: “Come on, come on!”

Malik is the first to go onstage. When he tells his mother that he loves her, promises to be a better son, her eyes shine.

A change for the better

In the past months, Malik’s mother has seen him change from an angry, emotional boy, to a responsible young man.

He's promised to “throw away” his past bad habits and focus on his studies so he can provide for her, help her retire.

But she says she doesn't care about that. She just wants him to turn his life around, and build a better future for himself.

“I’m working, sometimes 12 hours, sometimes eight hours, sometimes from morning to night, sometimes from noon to night. So it’s hard for me to take care of my four sons,” she says.

She continues, tearing up:

“It’s quite hard for me to get a job. Sometimes the supervisor gives [work] to me, sometimes he doesn’t.”

Malik's voice shakes as he talks about how back then, he'd resent how little time she had for him, how distant they became as he withdrew into himself.

"[What I regret] is how the things I used to do would make my mother worry, made her sad and disappointed...

I appreciate all the things she does. Sorry that I used to take her for granted."

Towards a future together

Malik has around a year left to go in the Boys’ Home. But already, he’s making plans to return to school, take his O-Levels, and get a stable job.

At school, he hopes to study either media or sports management at a polytechnic.

He also hopes to join the Singapore Civil Defence Force (SCDF), as a member of its elite Disaster Assistance and Rescue Team (DART).

"I want [my mum] to know that I can be responsible, and that I can change," he says. It's stunning introspection, for a boy of just 14.

Malik's mother is optimistic about his future. She says he's actually a smart student, just easily bored and influenced by his friends.

“I want him to know that as his mother, I love him a lot," she says. Tearful.

"Maybe he acted out because he didn't think that I love him, but that's OK. As a mother, I love all of my sons a lot.”

After the performance ends, they get to meet for a brief, precious moment before Malik has to return to the Boys’ Home.

The teen lifts her hand to his forehead in a gesture of respect, reaches over to ruffle his younger brothers’ hair.

In front of the cameras, they don’t say much. But when they walk off together, they’re a happy family once again, if only for that brief hour.

Soon enough, perhaps, for good.

@mothershipsg Malik (not his real name), 14, will be discharged in 2027. Till then, his love for his mum keeps him trying – for himself, and for his family❤️ #tiktoksg #fypsg #sgnews ♬ original sound - Mothership

Top image by Mothership