As I inched closer to him in a Singapore General Hospital ward, his wandering eyes suddenly focussed on me.

Propping himself up in bed, his right hand reached for his mobile phone as our eyes met.

But just moments before I could introduce myself to 53-year-old Mr Ong Yew Soon, a nurse intervened. She said he was not allowed any visitors and asked me to leave. Another nurse stepped in and reiterated her instructions. I complied.

But before I left the room, I managed to catch a glimpse of his arched black bushy eyebrows, possibly fearful of the stranger who was staring at him from barely a metre away.

His fears were understandable.

Mr Ong had been shot in the abdomen in a gangland-style shooting, in a restaurant in Denmark on Jan 5.

He was placed in an induced coma at Copenhagen's Rigshospitalet, the Danish capital's national hospital, where he slowly recovered.

While there, he refused interviews with Danish reporters when he regained consciousness so little is known about what actually transpired in the Bali Restaurant in Copenhagen on Jan 5.

Little is known about Mr Ong either.

Danish media carried reports that Mr Ong was touring Denmark and visiting a friend, Mr Roland Tan, 61, when both of them were wounded by a man toting a shotgun in Mr Tan's popular restaurant.

Mr Tan, a former Singapore citizen, was shot in the shoulder and has since been discharged from hospital.
Danish police say the gunman, Vietnamese Nguyen Phi Hung, 47, is still at large.

What struck me most when I finally stood in the same room as Mr Ong was his seemingly good spirits.

For a man whose life hung in the balance just a month ago, he looked very comfortable, even taking a call on his mobile phone as I left the ward.

Ironically, a big sign outside the closely-monitored ward cautioned against the use of mobile phones inside.

In fact, it might seem a preposterous idea with the long-standing ban on fireworks in effect since 1972.

But with the festive mood of Chinese New Year still in the air, pranksters probably thought it would be a blast to set some off right in the heart of Toa Payoh.

More specifically, just outside a coffeeshop near where I work.

It was a particularly busy night with groups of men basking in Chinese New Year revelry with bottles of imported beer lined up in front of them.

The din of their chatter was suddenly silenced by what sounded like a car backfiring, followed by a series of loud hisses and bangs.

I turned my head only to see the coffeeshop illuminated by resplendent bursts of purple, yellow and red just metres away.

Tables and chairs dragged across the floor, some even toppled over, as patrons ran for cover in the haze of white smoke and gunpowder.

One stray incendiary even zig-zagged its way into the coffeeshop, hitting a pillar before bursting into bright sparks.

I reached for my cellphone hoping to capture a photograph of the spectacle.

But it was too late.

The light show lasted only a few seconds and all that remained was a tuft of smoke.

While patrons checked each other to make sure everyone was all right, I called the police and ran out to see if the culprit(s) was still around.

Patrons I spoke to said they had not seen anyone leave the scene. Some even suggested that the firecrackers had been thrown from the block above. Nobody was certain.

Thankfully, no one was injured although one man I spoke to said his hair was slightly singed and his earlobe reddened after a flare spat burning bits at his head as it shot past.

I was reminded of why the Government banned fireworks – after an explosion that killed two people – resulting in the commencement of the Dangerous Fireworks Act.

The bottom line is, safety is paramount, despite those who still say that the ban has dampened the celebratory spirit of festive periods here.

Afterall, there are plenty of ways to celebrate without fear of one losing a limb, or worse a life.

If an example is needed then think back to just over one month ago.

Fireworks at Bangkok’s Santika nightclub have been pointed to as the cause of the New Year’s Day fire which killed dozens, including three Singaporeans.

While Thailand is more liberal with the use of fireworks, we should rest easy that the chance of a fire started a similar way here is next to zero.

As long as the handful of bad eggs such as Monday’s culprits understand the potential consequences of their actions.

While I was receiving a blow-by-blow of events as they happened, it struck me that Mr Sanjay Purushottam’s story of survival was pretty amazing.

The Singapore permanent resident, a pilot trainee with Malaysian private flight school, Elite Flying Club, took off from Senai Airport at about 9.40am on Monday.

He was supposed to arrive at the Batu Berendam airport in Malacca at 10.50am but did not manage to get there.

About 30 minutes into the flight, he asked for permission to turn back because of strong winds but then lost contact with the air-traffic controllers.

Once the message had got out that the plane had crashed, Malaysian rescue workers set to, about 60 of them finally managing to find it perched in a tree on the edge of a cliff.

Once the plane had been spotted, the rescue team had to get up the hill, trek to the spot and cut through the tail of the plane to get Mr Purushottam out.

They stayed with him until first light on Tuesday when he was taken to Sultanah Aminah Hospital in Johor Bahru at about 7am and then ferried back to Singapore at about noon.

If the rescue itself was not mind-blowing, he even managed to make a phone call to his wife to tell her that he had had an accident but that he was safe.

His injuries – a broken right thigh and facial bruising – were not life-threatening either.

While the cause of the crash has yet to be determined, the fact that he survived has been called a "miracle" by his family and friends.

At Mount Elizabeth Hospital here in Singapore where Mr Purushottam was taken on Tuesday afternoon, his wife and friends waited patiently in the lounge area while he underwent an operation to set his broken leg.

As I spoke to them, I saw the look of relief in their eyes.

This could have turned out a lot worse.

While Mr Purushottam’s wife’s eyes were weary from lack of sleep, she managed a smile and told me: "He will get better".

I’m sure he will.

For the complete story, read Wedneday's edition of The Straits Times.

After all, it is a place where, each day, lives are changed, often for the worse. Wrongdoers are admonished in courtrooms, many are led away to prison, and even on the courtrooms steps, the effects of judgments being handed down is felt: Each day, family members who attend hearings can be seen wailing and sobbing at the fates of their loved ones.

But there is a lighter - and hardly reported - side to the proceedings that unfold each day.

Two weeks ago, a man who stood in the dock asked the judge to adjourn his sentencing date for a month so that he could celebrate Deepavali with his family.

He was expecting to be jailed.

The judge was not convinced he needed that much time to celebrate the festival of lights and turned to a Hindu court interpreter.

She asked him, 'How long does it take you to celebrate Deepavali?'

To which he replied. 'It is a one-day affair, your honour.'

The convicted man then sheepishly muttered that he also needed time to settle some personal matters during that time.

The judge told him he should have come clear with her, but allowed then adjournment anyway - for three weeks, not a month.

A case mentioned before the same judge involved another Hindu man. This time his lawyer asked for a month's adjournment - going into detail how he needed time to prepare his client's mitigation submissions.

Taking on a semi-stern tone, the judge stared at the lawyer.

She said, 'Don't you think it would be easier to just tell me that your client needs to celebrate Deepavali?'

Everyone guffawed.

On one other occasion, a foreign construction worker took to the witness stand and began taking his oath. It was nothing unusual except for the fact that he held his right hand out in the fashion Adolf Hitler made notorious.

A court interpreter had to physically yank his arm into the accepted position after repeated demonstrations failed.

Sometimes, even a place that can qualify as a theatre of the absurd - each day, people dressed in everything from suits to shorts waltz in and out, and a dizzying variety of hairdos, body piercings and other accoutrements are on display - things can get otherworldly.

At dusk on Friday (Oct 31), a woman dressed as a witch, complete with ghoulish face make-up and long-flowing black hair, waltzed into the building's main entrance.

No one stopped her, but it's instructive to note that, in the courts, where little is surprising, everyone stopped and stared.

Then again, Friday was Halloween, and it was clear the woman was having a little bit of fun.

Proving, once again, that even in a deathly-serious place, people do break into a chuckle every now and then.

After District Judge Ng Peng Hong read out his sentence at about 3pm, Tang sat still in the dock, showing no emotion.

It was only minutes later, when the packed crowd of supporters – made up of family members, schoolmates from Anglo-Chinese School (ACS) and others – began leaving that he glanced back at them.

Still, he did not utter a word or show any emotion.

It was quite different outside the courtroom, where friends and family members mingled with mixed emotions.

Those close to Tang were elated that he had only received a day’s jail.

Mr Keith Chua, 55, a businessman who has known Tang since their primary school days in ACS, was among them. He felt that the judge had been “merciful”.

He was accompanied by five other former classmates and said that Tang usually hosted gatherings at his Farrer Road bungalow every few months.

However, the president of the Singapore Retailers’ Association Jannie Tay felt even a day was too much.

With tears in her eyes, she told reporters: “Why can’t there be more sympathy? He's just a man who has been waiting three years for a kidney transplant.”

When the buzz died down, reporters began gathering outside the Subordinate Courts, waiting for Tang’s release, which was estimated to be at about 5.30pm.

His lawyer, Senior Counsel Cavinder Bull, would not say where his client had been taken to.

Reporters soon got wind that Tang had been taken to Queenstown Remand Prison, and would be released just after 5pm.

What ensued was a scramble to get there as soon as possible.

Outside the prison, Tang’s lawyers waited patiently under a covered shelter accompanied by family members, who arrived in separate cars.

At 5.45pm, Tang calmly walked out to the front gate, unfazed by a barrage of popping camera flashes.

After completing some paperwork at the guard house, he walked out with Mr Bull.

His only words: “I’m fine”

With that, he got into his black Audi sedan and that, as they say, was that.

His total jail time? About two hours.