SINGAPORE — National Service is almost certainly a life-changing experience for every male Singaporean. It certainly was for playwright-director Irfan Kasban, whose two-year stint with the police force eventually led to this funny, heartfelt love letter called Tahan.

Yes, the army may capture the national imagination more, but it is the police that has its pulse on the ground, which this Teater Ekamatra production tries to capture as protagonist Adil — Farez Najid a thinly-veiled proxy for Irfan — finds himself assigned to a Marine Parade police station.

“Don’t let the uniform stick to your body,” comes the sage advice (or warning) early on, which we eventually learn means not losing one’s identity even one puts on the “mask” as it were. It proves slightly difficult, though, as Adil’s encounters become more and more stressful, from feuding neighbours to a teenage gang feud.

But this is by no means Training Day or Cops. You’ll find no robberies, drug busts, high-speed chases or other equally high-octane moments here. While there are enough tension-filled incidents to potentially warrant a similar glossy kind of tale, Irfan chooses to diffuse their collective impact by interspersing these with the more mundane aspects of the job — the long hours, the paperwork, the very routine of being (and acting like) a policeman. This is underscored by sound designer Bani Haykal’s recurring soundscape of facts and trivia about being a cop in Singapore mechanically uttered over a rather catchy (and benign) melodic rhythm.

With such a structure, Tahan seems like it’s going nowhere. But this tone of randomness also highlights the very erratic nature of the job — you don’t know what the next call, the next round of patrol, is going to bring next. One minute, the cops are sneaking a puff behind the station, the next, there’s a victim of violence lying on the ground (a brief but effective shock scene done with the inventive use of lights and banging of cabinet doors).

The shifts also extend to tone — and here, Tahan walks the fine line as it goes from the hilarious to the serious. During opening night, one heard giggles during an attempted suicide, for instance. But while it may initially feel inappropriate, one can’t discount the probability of absurdity during emotionally-heightened moments like these in real life.

With dramatic moments diffused, Tahan is also brought down to earth, its police force humanised. They go bowling, tease the new kid on the block, and are occasional victims of the same incidents they try to fix.

The entire cast all have their moments taking on multiple roles throughout, in particular Andy Yew and Faizal Abdullah. While the catchiest scenes are the funny ones (the hilarious screaming match between neighbours is a keeper), it is the overall of camaraderie among the police that comes across strongest.

But, perhaps, it is also too strong. Adil may have a lot of questions, as one of the regulars joked, but there is little in the way of questioning. In fact, the only “flaw” among uniformed men here is the suggestion of taking “shortcuts” during one round of night patrol. One didn’t need to hear the more overly sentimental and philosophical musings of the lead character (and some pretty judicious use of talcum powder) to sense just where Irfan is coming from: A position of profound respect.

Tahan is a wide-eyed tribute to the men in blue. And while I personally thought it could’ve done with a bit more grit, it does give us an important glimpse into the world of some folks that we sometimes take for granted.

(Tahan runs from Feb 21 to 23, 8pm (3pm Saturday matinee), Drama Centre Black Box. Tickets at S$35 from http://www.gatecrash.com.sg.)