SOUL SCRIBBLES

Late last year, I heard rumours that Spotlight was closing its doors in Malaysia. The staff said they haven’t gotten any memo yet on the closure. But it is confirmed now. I felt an unexpected ache—like losing a dear friend who had quietly, consistently been part of my creative journey. It wasn’t just a shop I visited; it was the place where my love for crocheting and sewing was not only supported but truly ignited. More often than not, I would walk into Spotlight with no clear project in mind—and walk out with arms full of colourful yarn, a couple of crochet hooks (although I already have plenty!), and a head buzzing with ideas. Every visit sparked creativity, joy, and self-discovery. From soft pastels to bold, textured fibres, Spotlight’s yarn section was a playground for the senses. Every colour told a story; every skein held potential. It became a ritual—those quiet, happy trips where I’d browse, dream, and imagine my next handmade piece. Scarves, baby blankets, bags… all of it beg...

Form Five Science 2, 1979   Spending 11 years at the Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus in Johor Bahru was more than just an education—it was a life boot camp. From the tender age of seven to our mid-teens, those formative years shaped us—not just as students, but as young women learning to navigate a gloriously diverse and ever-changing world. Convent wasn’t merely a school. It was a community—a vibrant blend of girls from every background under one tiled roof. In every classroom, Malay, Chinese, Indian, and Eurasian pupils sat side by side, swapping stories, snacks, and secrets. There was no “us and them”. Just us—giggling over silly jokes, helping each other with homework, or standing united when the entire class forgot to do their homework. In Standard One, drowning in boxy school bags and starched pleated Cerulean uniforms that defied comfort, pupils of the Christian faith recited morning prayers while the rest of us observed respectfully. Hymns—especially the Christmas ones—soo...

BANYAK kenangan saya bersama Pak Lah. Ya, ketika dia menjadi Menteri Pelajaran dari tahun 1984 sehingga dilantik sebagai Perdana Menteri ke 5. Semenjak dahulu lagi, saya menyapa Tun Abdullah Ahmad Badawi sebagai Pak Lah, melainkan ketika Pak Lah bersama pembesar-pembesar negara luar atau di sidang akhbar antarabangsa or when protocol dictates we address him accordingly. Calling him Pak Lah was not a sign of disrespect. On the contrary, it was a sign of respect. Saya menganggap Pak Lah sebagai seorang bapa yang mengambil pendekatan lembut terhadap sesuatu. Pertuturannya lembut, non-confrontational. He was terribly modest, soft spoken and averse to speaking ill of others. Sukar sebenarnya untuk tidak menyukai dan tidak menyayangi Pak Lah. Ada yang mengatakan bahawa sifat-sifat seorang gentleman seperti ini adalah satu kelemahan terutamanya bagi mereka yang berkecimpung dalam politik dan Kerajaan but not to Pak Lah. These were actually endearing traits. My respect and admiration for Pak ...

“COMPLETE  fasting the entire month and you’ll get RM30 on the first day of Syawal.” This, I remember, was my first  duit  raya , given to me by my late father when I was 6 years old. It was actually RM1 a day for each day of fasting. He would tell us this on every eve of Ramadan as an inducement to fast the entire month. If he had included  sahur,  we would have failed miserably as my brothers and I preferred sleeping over eating in the wee hours of the morning. My brothers and I received the same amount until we each reached the age of 18. I still got the full amount even if I didn’t complete the month as I had a valid reason as to why I could not fast. And our other  duit raya  came from aunts and uncles when we visited them at their houses with our parents or when they came to ours. We also got money packets from my father’s non-Muslim friends who visited us on the first day of Raya. We never got the opportunity to venture on our own o...

WE are nearing the end of the first week of Ramadan. Some of my friends have settled into a new routine, having made changes to their working arrangements and lifestyle. Among them, there are those who have turned down offers of overseas travel during the month and those that stretched into the Raya period. Some even frowned upon others who do travel during Ramadan as if it is an unthinkable thing to do. There are those who have rescheduled meetings, even important ones, until after Raya. The government and some companies have shortened the working hours (lunch-break hours are reduced) to accommodate those having to go home early to prepare break-of-fast meals for the family and then rush to the mosque to perform the terawih prayers. So, with this and more, Ramadan is perceived to be a month of reduced working hours and productivity. In fact, a 2013 Harvard Kennedy School of Government research by Filipe Campante and David Yanagizawa-Drott had established causal evidence for a n...

TEN years ago when the country celebrated its 50th independence, I took to the streets with my office mates to participate in the Merdeka Day parade at Dataran Merdeka. It was my second. The first time I took part in the Merdeka Day parade was a few years after I joined the company. It was for the fun of it. I remembered wearing a white T-shirt with newspaper cuttings printed on it. I remembered being asked why I signed up for the parade. Family members and friends said they would rather stay at home and watch the parade on television. The second time around, I was looking for a more meaningful way to remember the country’s 50 years of independence. My mother, for example, was at Padang Pahlawan in Malacca on Feb 20, 1956 when Tunku Abdul Rahman made the first announcement on the country’s independence. She will reminisce about this moment every Aug 31 while we watch the live television broadcast of the Merdeka parade. I wanted to do something so that I would, later in the yea...

Here we go again with the blame game after eight teenagers lost their lives in a horrific accident in Johor Baru early Saturday morning. Why do we do that? A New York-based psychology website offered this as one of the reasons: that we are not good at figuring out the cause. It also said that the blame game is an excellent defence mechanism, a tool that is used when we are in attack mode and that it is easier to blame someone else than to accept responsibility. Who is actually responsible for what had happened — the parents who said that they were not aware of their children’s whereabouts at night or what they did; the children for courting death, knowing fully well the danger of making the road their playground; the car driver for not being careful while on the road; or the authorities for not hauling up these children when they are aware of the children’s nocturnal activities on that particular road? Netizens did not mince their words when sharing and commenting on the acciden...