SOUL SCRIBBLES

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...

I write this not knowing if I’ll survive the ordeal. No Wi-Fi. No cell signal. And — most devastating of all — no electricity.  The cell signal was the first to go, thanks to a forgotten phone bill. That one’s on me. Then, as if the universe had a personal vendetta, the condo management decided it was the perfect time for “preventive maintenance” on the electrical system. Just like that, the power was cut. And with it, the Wi-Fi — our last fragile link to modern civilization — blinked out. I was officially off the grid. No Facebook. No Instagram. No TikTok. No Netflix. Not even a sneaky WhatsApp message could get through. I lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling fan, which — thanks to the outage — was also taking a break. For 30 minutes, I contemplated life. My choices. And how long I could survive without memes. Then I heard it — the soft whisper of the wind squeezing through the closed window like a polite ghost. I got up and opened it. Fresh air. Nature. I was beginning to rem...