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Happy Father's Day

June is a significant month for fathers and those who have acted as father figures: stepfathers, uncles, grandfathers, big brothers, teachers and mentors. It is the month when some countries including Malaysia celebrate Father's Day. As American poet Anne Sexton put it: "It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was." My own father, who was a major influence in my life when I was growing up in Ipoh, Perak, Malaysia, passed away a long time ago. Since then there has been one major father figure in my life: my mentor, who is also my uncle, and he has helped me through difficult times. Fathers teach by example. You learn important values from them and you acquire some of their tastes for things. It could be anything: a love for English literature, words and books, among others. Sometimes you did not agree with their viewpoints but realised later that they were right about many things. As a child, growing up in a hometown known for its laid-back wa

Dealing with death of a loved one

Today marks the end of Rabiaa's mourning period. She had completed four months and 10 days or 130 days of grieving, the stipulated period for expressing sorrow for Muslim widows.  The death of her husband on Dec 30, 2020 was expected  but it still came as a huge shock to her. It was too sudden, she felt. Yet  observers would not agree. Her husband became bedridden in mid-November after a collision between his big bike and a car which had come from the opposite direction after taking an illegal turn.  In addition to being bedridden, Anwar, lost his voice which was the direct result of the  brain injury he had suffered after the accident. He was diagnosed with traumatic brain injury. How does Rabiaa feel now? The pain is bearable but the memories remain as vivid as ever. She is still unwilling to clear up all of her husband's things and some items remain in their original positions as before he became bound to the bed. His belongings connect Rabiaa to Anwar and she basks in the w

Guest Post: May your kids treat you the same

The sight of a poor abandoned dog she calls Scruffy gets guest blogger JEHAN MOHD all worked up and wishing divine justice for his heartless owners. Here is her plea. Scruffy trying to hydrate himself from a small  puddle of water outside Jehan Mohd's house. FOR the past several weeks, whenever a car pulls up in front of my terraced house or that of the opposite neighbour's, a scruffy lanky brown dog would come running out of nowhere to greet the occupants — whether he’s welcome to do so or not. More a nuisance than a delight to the residents here, the mongrel seems to have taken a liking to our little area — never mind the fact that he’s often shooed away — and he guards his territory like the loyal pet he used to be. His collar — once a proud symbol of belonging — is now a sad reminder of how easily pets like him can be discarded. While I'm very upset that he runs loose outside and tries to enter our compounds once in a while, the real culprits in this situation