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Malaysia Day: A Quiet Reminder

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Every year, 16 September comes quietly. There are no fireworks as grand as Merdeka, no parades filling the streets. Yet Malaysia Day has a special weight — it is the day we truly became a nation. On this date in 1963, Malaya, Sabah, Sarawak, and Singapore came together to form Malaysia. It was not just a line on a calendar; it was a promise — that despite distance, culture, and history, we could build something together. Perhaps that is why Malaysia Day feels reflective. It asks us to pause and look beyond the surface — beyond flags and slogans — and ask what it really means to be Malaysian. It is in the laughter at open houses during festive seasons, in the morning queue at the roti canai stall, in the mix of languages at the pasar malam. It is in the quiet understanding that we share more than we realise. Malaysia Day reminds us that nationhood is not an event we commemorate once a year. It is a work-in-progress, built every time we choose cooperation over conflict, understanding ove...
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FEEDING SOLIDARITY ACROSS THE STRAITS

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When Indonesia makes headlines for rioting, protests, or political tension, we often feel the ripple effects — not just through news alerts, but through WhatsApp chats from friends and colleagues living there. And just recently, the Malaysian response isn’t just words of comfort. It’s food. Through Grabfood, Malaysians are ordering and paying for food for either the Grab delivery drivers (the riots inhibit them to get rides and deliveries) or asking these drivers to send the food to the needy in Jakarta, Surabaya, or wherever they are hunkered down. A meal can feel like a lifeline — or at least a reminder that someone across the sea is thinking of them. Food has always been Southeast Asia’s love language. In times of crisis, it becomes even more powerful. We may not be able to stop the chaos on Jakarta’s streets, but we can make sure that some Indonesians has food on their table. It’s a small, quiet act of solidarity — a way of saying,  “ Stay safe. Take care.” It’s also a statemen...
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Speaking My Mind? Blame It on My Father

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“You finally found your voice,” a friend remarked the other day.  He was referring to some of my recent postings, where I’ve begun speaking out and commenting on issues that matter to me.  For years, I wasn’t that person. I kept my thoughts to myself—whether out of politeness, fear of criticism, or the belief that my words didn’t matter. It felt easier to stay silent than to risk saying something that might stir disagreement. But lately, I’ve come to realise that silence is not always harmless. Sometimes silence means complicity. And if you see something wrong yet choose to keep quiet, you’re still part of the problem.  When I think about this shift in me, I cannot help but think of my late father. He was a man who never struggled to find his voice. In fact, he often spoke when others hesitated.  I remember how, at family gatherings, he would challenge relatives on their views if he felt they were wrong, even if it made the room uncomfortable.  At work, he was...
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My Merdeka Story: Freedom Then, Hope Now

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I was born just five years after independence.  As such, Merdeka is not a date I read in history books. It is not merely the parades on television or the flags fluttering in the wind every August.  Merdeka is a lived experience — a rhythm of life that has shaped me as much as it has shaped this nation. My childhood unfolded while Malaysia was still finding its footing as a young nation. I remember classrooms filled with children from all walks of life, our accents mixing, our friendships unburdened by politics.  Those early days carried the innocence of a country still learning what it meant to stand on its own.  As Malaysia grew, so did I. I entered my teenage years as the country entered its first flush of rapid development. I watched skyscrapers rise where old wooden shops once stood. I saw factories bring jobs, highways stretch across states, and the idea of progress become part of our daily vocabulary.  Alongside these triumphs, I also saw the struggles — ...
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The Apology Came, But the Truth Never Did

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I’ve let go of the past — or at least, I’ve done my best to. I’ve chosen peace over bitterness, growth over grudges. But some memories still find their way back. They don’t knock; they just show up — in quiet moments, late at night, or in the middle of a perfectly normal day. And when they do, I still wonder:  What did I do to deserve what was done to me? I’ve replayed events in my mind more times than I can count, searching for clues, turning over every detail like puzzle pieces that just never quite fit. I ask myself, again and again:  Did I trigger it? Was there something I said, something I missed, something I didn’t see coming? I’ve received one apology. Just one. But he never explained why it all turned out the way it did. He never gave me the truth. Was someone else whispering behind the scenes, manipulating things? Was I caught in someone else's game? Or was I just guilty by association — collateral damage in a story that was never really mine? And then there’s the que...
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The Rise of the Malay Man Bun …

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Once upon a time, the average Malay man was known for his clean-cut appearance and pomade-slicked hair, parted with military precision—almost always sporting his parents’ silent (or very vocal) stamp of approval. Hair was more than just style; it was discipline. Growing up, my father had a simple, unwavering rule: his two sons were to keep their hair short while they were in school. It wasn't up for debate, nor was it a passing preference—it was a standard, one he believed reflected discipline, order, and a proper upbringing. Every month or so, like clockwork, my brothers were marched to the barber’s chair for their trims. At the time, short hair was just part of the routine—as natural and expected as wearing a school uniform. As we grew older, the haircuts never stopped. Long after our father stopped enforcing the rule, my brothers continued to keep their hair short. Not because they had to, but because they had come to prefer it that way. But in recent years, a quiet rebellion ha...
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The Silence Between the Pages

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Books have the power to transport, teach, connect, and transform us. We turn to literature not only to entertain ourselves but also to deepen our understanding of people—fictional or real—and the world they inhabit. A book that truly resonates tends to feature evocative writing, compelling structure, memorable characters, fresh insights, and emotional depth. When all these elements align, the experience becomes deeply satisfying: we feel both seen and challenged, comforted and moved. And, there’s a particular kind of frustration that comes from reading a book that promises depth but delivers only gloss.  Ku Li: Memoir 205  is one of those books.  With a figure as complex, storied, and politically significant as Tengku Razaleigh Hamzah, the expectation is naturally high. His life intersects with nearly every major chapter of Malaysia’s political and economic history—finance, oil, UMNO schisms, royal lineage, near-premiership. The material is all there. But the memoir never...
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