haha under grace.

Before I begin writing about this, let me assure you that I am fully aware of my lack of rights to write about this. My rights are limited simply because I am about to write about grief that is entitled to many other people instead of myself.  And the reason I am not entitled to this grief is because I am not her mother, I am not her sister, I am not her closest female cousin, I am not her best friend and I am not even her classmate.  But, I have to write about this. Even if I have to use many words to describe my lack of entitlement or involvement to this grief - I must.  Because I am seeking for words or description that explains this sadness you feel many years after a friend, who is less than a best friend but way more than a friendly acquaintance has decided to take her own life with no explanation whatsoever.  Don't get me wrong - it is not an explanation I am asking for or even some kind of closure that I am sure her family is yearning for.  What I am loo...

One fine day, many years ago I came across an article entitled 'Miracle Noodles'. The claim was that these 'Miracle Noodles' that came from Japan had zero calories. Back then I had somewhat of a disordered pattern of eating and therefore the idea of eating something with absolutely NO calories really appealed to me.  My search attempt for these noodles came to fruition but the minor setback was that, although these noodles were easily available at most major grocery stores - it would cost me RM4.99 per pack, which is expensive for a full-time university student.  Honestly, writing this now as someone who has a better attitude towards food, I cringe as I look back at myself who was obsessed of figuring out a way to consume this noodle at every meal no matter what it took. Since money was an issue I thought making them on my own would be more cost-effective. Sadly my attempt to make Shirataki noodles on my own (as a busy full-time dental student) did NOT come to fruition...

Since MCO is almost over, I thought I should share some of my experiences. The Movement Control Order (MCO) in Malaysia started on the 18th of March as an effort by the government to flatten the curve of the COVID-19 pandemic. I'm sure I don't have to write more on this pandemic because it's something that happened in 2020 that no one will ever forget. Kids, this was our version of the World War.  I did still have to work during the duration of the MCO as a healthcare professional, although not everyday and that gave me ample of time to... learn how to cook.  FYI, I do know how to cook and have been cooking for myself ever since I moved out of my parents house on October of last year. In that short amount of time, I managed to develop a few recipes of my own that are probably not good enough for cookbooks, but hopefully good enough for this blog. My life pre-MCO did not consist of me cooking everyday. I usually cook for pleasure in the weekends or during a holiday ...

Once when I was younger, I watched a movie called: Brush with Fate. It was adapted from a book by Susan Vreeland, The Girl in Hyacinth Blue. Basically the movie was about a fictional Vermeer painting that was lost. Based on her understanding of Vermeer, the author imagined an entire story around it and the painting that you see in the film was done by an American artist, Jonathan Janson who was inspired by the book and Vermeer’s painting style. In this story, Vermeer made a painting of his daughter sitting by a window with a hyacinth blue cloth wrapped around her. Somehow this painting was stolen and sold off leading it through a journey of multiple change of hands — with each owner there was a story to tell. The story that stayed with me was about a potato farmer’s wife. The time period might be during wartime when food was scarce, but it was clear that the family lived in poverty as they had only potatoes to eat. Their food supply gradually reduced and soon the potato ...

About 5 decades ago, a Malaysian-born Tamil travelled to India to marry an Indian woman. Their first-born is my father. A few years after that, a girl was born into a big family to a Malaysian-born Hakka man and a Bidayuh woman. That girl is my mother. For a long time now my brother and I have found it a bit of a hassle to explain to people our racial background that we tend to succumb to introducing ourselves as Chindians. But in reality, that is not all that we are. I was born in Sarawak General and besides my parents, was raised by a Bidayuh grandmother. Since it takes a village to a raise a child, I was also raised by a Bidayuh aunt, many Hakka-Bidayuh aunts and uncles, an Indian grandmother and many Tamil aunts and uncles. Growing up, I spoke a lot of English (since my dad is an English teacher), a lot of Bahasa Melayu Sarawak, barely there Tamil and mediocre Mandarin thanks to a Chinese baby-sitter and 幼儿园 . Although my brother speaks better Mandarin and superior Hokkien, th...