Psst! Wanna see my smash-up pictures?

Innocence, freedom, individualism, mobility - the belief that one can leave a constricting or violent history behind and remake yourself in a new form of your choosing - all part of the new economic migrant's dream. As a young boy who has ventured into the world believing that things are as they seem to be; that a person's story begin when they are born and their relations with other people when they meet them; that you can leave your home without fear of injury or loneliness because people everywhere are more or less alike.

How wrong, naive, churlish are these thoughts. There are times in life when good things happen unexpectedly. Recently I experienced one of those. In January, I got a call from an agent offering me a Technical Analyst position with Optus Communications. Aced the interview and got the position, I felt that a recovering carrier was absolutely essential to my recovering emotionally. And things had started to look up indeed. Apartment check, flatmate check, carrier check, health check - in short things were looking up. As Daniel Craig mentions in Layer Cake, "could taste it in my spit". Social life is despicable, but hey am learning golf.

Well, life has a manner in which it puts everything in perspective. Two weeks ago, I was mugged on my way home from work. Was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Amnesia - how very convenient. I was in ER, hospitalised, fractured, uncharted territory for the young lad. Then it hit me: it was so exciting, it was depressing. All the phone calls, cards, cookies and care. It could ruin my life, because I didn't want to be injured. And this one-off experience would make going back to normal life so much more difficult. Then again, it was a bittersweet experience I could live with.

Someone mentioned that I didn't complain throughout the ordeal. It got me thinking about how my life would be if I never complained. There are so many perks I'm missing out on. For instance, in a relationship. What's the reward for staying silent and being patient' Not breaking up.

Every time I meet the new boyfriend of ex-girlfriends, they are nothing like me. They don't seem difficult at all. I've always assumed it meant they weren't as interesting, but maybe they're interesting in a different way ' a less confrontational way.

The ex who I'm now friends with introduced me to her boyfriend last time i visited Bombay. As soon as I met him I could see why she's with him: he was exceptionally agreeable. Whenever she's spoken about why it works so well with him, it comes down to one thing: he doesn't ask questions.

No wonder I'll die alone. All I do is ask questions. And it's the root of all turmoil. Especially questions that provoke an internal search. 'What political party you belong with?' and 'What do you feel about the current Middle East situation?' Bad idea.

Especially after sex. Or when the TV is on. Or if the sun is out. Or if she's breathing oxygen. Questions that attempt to get information in general are never welcome. 'What are you thinking?' Doom. 'When is Howard going to resign?' Armageddon. The problem with these questions is, after time and perseverance, they invariably lead to an answer, which leads to a complaint.

And not answering is a mistake. It solves nothing. Or worse: an answer along the lines of 'You don't want to know.' Telling someone like me that I don't want to know is the verbal equivalent of sleeping with my sister.

A complaint is never in isolation. It's engulfed by wanting to know more and what can be done to fix it. And there lies the biggest question of all: would I be happier if I never complained? Probably not.