SINGAPORE — At the age of 13, Albert Silvaraj started to mix with bad company. School was an afterthought, and he often played truant, before dropping out in the following year.

From then, his life spiralled out of control. He took drugs, sniffed glue and joined a gang, declaring his loyalty to them with tattoos inked on his neck and arms.

The law caught up with him in 2002, when he was nabbed for a traffic offence at the age of 20 and sentenced to three weeks’ jail.

“When I was released from prison, I really didn’t want to change my lifestyle ... When you’re in gangs, you earn much more from the vice activities than what you earn in the market.

“Those days, I didn’t have self-value. As long as money came in, it was okay,” he said, sharing his story with reporters on the sidelines of the Yellow Ribbon Prison Run yesterday.

Over the next two years, Mr Silvaraj was jailed twice for being in an unlawful assembly and voluntarily causing hurt. He had smashed a beer bottle on his brother-in-law’s head in a coffee shop as payback for abusing his sister in a drunken stupor.

“I was psychologically affected. My father drank and beat my mother. Then my brother-in-law drank and beat my sister. The pattern was (continuing), and I wanted it to stop,” he said.

In 2005, he left prison for the third time, and a family tragedy finally set his life on the right track. In July 2006, his mentally ill father stabbed his mother to death at home.

Their home in Bukit Batok was sold, and Mr Silvaraj found himself at a loss. “I was depending too much on gangs and friends, but ... when I most needed them, they weren’t there for me,” he said.

“They were there for me in fights. But that time, I didn’t want a fight. I wanted a shelter. My family flat was being sold, and I had nowhere to turn to.”

He worked odd jobs for two years and fell deeper into alcohol dependency, before checking himself into a halfway home. There, he completed advanced diplomas in counselling, psychology and criminology, and started volunteering at the halfway house and in prison.

Around 2010, he met his wife at Alexandra Hospital. Ms Shanthi Nila was a patient service associate handling registration, and he was undergoing physiotherapy for a bad knee.

“I didn’t dare to talk to her at first. People like me with tattoos don’t dare to approach girls. The fear of rejection is always there,” he said.

“So I just kept quiet whenever I went. We didn’t even dare to smile at each other. For three years, it was just eye contact.”

She initiated conversation only when he returned to hospital following a six-month break from physiotherapy. “She was on duty. She said, ‘Long time never see you.’” he recounted. They started dating, despite her parents’ initial objections.

Ms Nila, 33, said: “He told me everything, even without me asking. He didn’t even hide any information about himself. That made me trust him.” They married in 2015, and they now have a five-month-old son.

Now 35, Mr Silvaraj works in an organisation, which he prefers not to disclose, as a coach for at-risk youth. The stigma of being an ex-offender used to haunt him, but he has found peace through his wife.

He often gets stopped at MRT stations for spot checks and receives stares from strangers because of his tattoos.

“It’s a little shameful, but I chose this life. I know my heart is clean, and my path is clean. As long as my wife accepts me, I’m okay,” he said.

In his line of work, youths often share that they are drop-outs, have tattoos or come from a broken family. “I’ve been there, done that,” he tells them. That he has experienced what they are going through gives them hope. VALERIE KOH