Virgo Dan

Me Before You : A love story that broke my heart ❤️

2026-11-11T15:11:07.143+08:00

Some films entertain us, some make us laugh and then there are those that touch something deep within us and stay with us long after the screen goes dark.

Me Before You was one of those films for me.

I watched it twice and both times I found myself completely caught up in the story of Will and Louisa. Their love story was beautiful, unexpected and ultimately, heartbreaking.

Louisa came into Will’s life as his caregiver but what began as a job slowly became something much deeper. She brought colour, laughter and little moments of happiness into his otherwise restricted world. And in return, Will opened up a world of possibilities for her that she perhaps had never imagined for herself.

What touched me most was Louisa’s determination to make Will happy. When she discovered his plans to travel to Switzerland for assisted dying, she secretly held on to the hope that she could change his mind. She wanted him to see that life could still hold beautiful moments, that there was still something worth looking forward to.

I found myself wishing she could change his mind too.

Their first trip together, their first kiss, even their little disagreement…all those moments made their relationship feel so real. I loved watching them grow closer and I think that’s why the ending hurt so much.

And when Louisa returned to Switzerland to be with him, my heart simply broke.

Then came Will’s letter.

Even after his passing, he continued to encourage her to live fully, to explore the world and to discover the person she could become. In his own way, he was still looking after her, hoping she would not allow her world to become small.

That letter was almost too much for my heart to bear.

Of course, the film also leaves us with difficult questions about love, choice, independence and the meaning of living a fulfilling life. Will’s decision is deeply personal and complicated and I don’t think there are simple answers. But what stayed with me was how profoundly two people can change each other’s lives, even when they cannot have the ending they wished for.

And perhaps that’s what made me reflect on love itself.

I believe love is about sharing life. The laughter, the adventures, the little disagreements, the quiet moments and even the ordinary everyday things that somehow become precious when shared with someone special.

It isn’t always about saving someone or changing them. Sometimes, it’s about walking alongside each other, accepting one another and making the journey a little more beautiful.

Me Before You broke my heart, but it also left me thinking about how precious love is, how deeply it can touch us and how important it is to keep living with an open heart.

At the End, to rate the movie, Netflix asked me what I thought of the movie.

Not for me? I like this? Love this?

None of those buttons quite captured what I felt.

I didn’t simply love this movie.

It broke my heart, touched my soul and left me thinking about it long after the credits rolled.

Some love stories stay with you.

This one certainly will. ❤️

Diwali Feels A Little Different Without You…

2026-11-05T07:41:46.470+08:00

The lights are going up, the festival is approaching and the world is getting ready to celebrate.

Yet, somewhere within me, things feel a little quieter again this Diwali.

I find myself wishing my mom was still around.

It’s strange how festivals change when someone so important is no longer around. The dates remain on the calendar, the lights still sparkle, the familiar celebrations continue but something feels missing.

Perhaps it’s the little things that I miss most. Having mom around, knowing I could call her, sharing a meal, hearing her voice and simply having her as part of my world.

I am learning that life carries on even when our hearts sometimes wish they could pause.

I want to remember the love, the laughter and the beautiful memories my mom left behind. I want to carry those memories with gratitude, even on days when missing her hurts a little more.

But I still wish mom was here.

Just one more Diwali.

One more conversation.

One more ordinary day with her.

Until then, I’ll keep a little light burning in my heart for you, mom.

You are missed, you are loved, and you will always be a part of every celebration in my heart.

Happy Diwali, Amma…❤️🪔

Seventy Years And Then Goodbye

2026-09-29T07:28:21.075+08:00

Seventy years.

That was how long they had been married.

Yesterday, I watched the news of Tun Dr Siti Hasmah’s passing and saw her husband, Tun Dr Mahathir Mohamad, grieving beside her.

He is 101 years old.

And suddenly, politics didn’t seem important anymore.

There was just an elderly husband who had lost his wife. And, she lived up to a 100.

A woman who had been beside him for seventy years. I found myself feeling unexpectedly emotional.

Perhaps because there is something deeply moving about a lifetime shared with another person.

Seventy years means knowing someone through so many versions of themselves.

Young. Older. Busy. Tired.

Happy.Worried.Celebrating. Struggling.

It means watching children grow, families change, seasons come and seasons go.

It means accumulating thousands of ordinary moments that nobody else could fully know.

And then one day, you wake up and the person who has been part of all those years is no longer there.

I don’t think we talk enough about this part of growing old.

We celebrate longevity.

A hundred years sounds extraordinary.

But living a long life also means eventually having to say goodbye to many people you love.

And perhaps that is why seeing him cry touched me. It reminded me that age does not make us immune to loss.

It doesn’t make goodbye easier.

We can live for a hundred years and still be someone’s child.

Someone’s parent.

Someone’s husband.

Someone’s wife.

Someone’s best friend.

And when that person leaves, we can still feel small and lost.

It also brought my own mother to mind.

Grief does that.

Sometimes another person’s loss opens a little door inside us and suddenly someone we have been carrying quietly in our hearts comes walking through.

A memory. A voice. A laugh.

A silly story we haven’t thought about for months.

And for a moment, they are right there again.

Maybe that is what remains after someone leaves us. Not the number of years. Not the dates. Not even the photographs.

But the little things that became part of us without us realising it.

The way they laughed. The way they called our name.The things they always said. The stories we heard a hundred times.

The ordinary moments that, only later, become extraordinary.

So perhaps today, while the people we love are still here, we should pay attention.

Sit a little longer. Listen a little more.

Have the conversation.

Share the laugh.

Make the cup of chai.

Because one day, we may discover that the moments we thought were ordinary were actually the pieces of a lifetime.

Seventy years.

And then goodbye.

Perhaps the greatest gift is not knowing exactly how long we have. Perhaps it is simply being present for the time we do have.

And loving while we are still here. 🤍

While The Door Is Still Open

2026-09-14T21:22:40.989+08:00

None of us know.

We don’t know what tomorrow will bring.

We don’t know what the world will look like a hundred years from now. And none of us can imagine what Earth, humanity or life itself might look like a thousand years from today.

That is both fascinating and heartbreaking.

I recently watched a documentary about a family who chose to have their daughter cryopreserved after her death, holding on to the possibility that one day, science might allow her to return to the world.

Her father said that even if it took a thousand years, he would have no regrets.

And then he said something that stayed with me:

Who knows… perhaps there will even be a time machine by then.

I loved his determination. Not because he knew it would work.

He didn’t. He simply refused to close the door.

Perhaps that is what hope sometimes looks like. Not certainty. Not a promise.

Not even a reasonable probability.

Just the decision to leave a possibility open.

Of course, there is another side to this.

A thousand years is beyond anything we can truly comprehend.

Will our civilisation still exist?

Will the world look anything like the one we know?

Will science have advanced beyond anything we can imagine?

Will anyone even remember the people who are making these decisions today?

No one alive now can answer those questions. And perhaps that is the heartbreaking part of being human.

We live our lives as though the future is waiting for us. We make plans. We postpone things. We assume there will be more time.

But there are no guarantees.

We don’t know how many ordinary mornings we have left with someone we love. We don’t know which conversation will be our last. We don’t know what tomorrow will take away or what it might unexpectedly bring.

So, perhaps we don’t need to know.

Perhaps we simply need to keep the doors open where we can.

To love while we have the chance.

To say what needs to be said.

To make the memories we keep postponing.

To leave room for possibilities we cannot yet see.

Because none of us knows what the future holds. And perhaps that uncertainty is exactly why the present matters so much.

We cannot guarantee tomorrow.

But we are here today.

And while the door is still open, perhaps we should step through it.

And live. ❤️

Just Love

2026-08-26T19:57:42.908+08:00

Sometimes, a place can hold more memories than we realise.

This morning, I went to see my doctor.

My half yearly routine check up.

Every time I go to my doctor’s clinic, I can still picture my late mom sitting in a wheelchair at her favorite spot, waiting for her turn.

She would usually protest.

“I can walk, I can walk…”

And I would insist that she use the wheelchair, especially as she became weaker over the years.

She had lived with an old leg injury from a freak accident many years ago and one leg was shorter than the other. We even had her shoes adjusted so that one was slightly higher and she could walk more comfortably.

Some days she would agree to the wheelchair. Other days, she would insist on walking slowly. That was my mom. 😊

And as I was sitting in that clinic this morning, I sometimes remember all her little observations.

If I was looking at my phone:

“It’s bad for your eyes. Put the phone away.”

If my hair was loose:

“Tie up your hair.”

And if I became too chatty with the nurse:

“Don’t keep talking to her. She has lots of work to do.”

Meanwhile, the nurse and I would be happily chatting away. 😂😂😂

Then, inevitably:

“Go and eat something. You haven’t had your breakfast.”

There is a little café on the same floor and some days my mom and I would have toast and tea together.

Usually, after seeing the doctor, while waiting for the pharmacy to dispense her medicines, we would have an early lunch. I loved watching her eat as my mom rarely ate out, so those little meals together were special to me.

At the time, they were simply ordinary days. A wheelchair. A clinic. Toast and tea. Waiting for medicine. A little scolding.

A little laughter. A meal together.

But now, I realise those ordinary moments were filled with something extraordinary.

Love.

My mom’s love was overflowing.

It wasn’t always expressed in grand gestures. Often, it sounded like reminders, observations, little arguments and endless concern.

Did I eat?

Was I resting?

Was I taking care of myself?

Was I talking too much?

Was my hair tied up? 😂❤️

It was her way of loving me.

And perhaps it took the years I spent with her, especially during the later years, for me to fully understand just how deep that love was.

My mom is no longer here.

The house where she spent her last years is quiet now. The room is empty.

And sometimes, when I visit the clinic without her, I can almost feel her presence beside me.

I miss her terribly. But beneath the missing, there is something else….

Gratitude.

Because, what a blessing it was to receive a love like hers. If there is ever another life, another chance, another beginning, I know what I would choose….

I would choose her again.

I would want her to be my mom again.

Because some loves don’t simply become memories when someone leaves us. They become part of who we are.

And hers…was just love.

Overflowing, never-ending, an unforgettable love. ❤️🙏🏻

Watching Michael Again

2026-05-24T18:20:38.018+08:00

I watched Michael for the second time recently.

The first time I watched it, I was in awe. I was amazed by the music, the dancing, the energy and how incredibly Jaafar carried Michael’s presence so naturally that at moments, it truly felt like Michael himself was on screen again.

But the second time felt different. This time, I felt more sadness. Perhaps because I already knew the story and my heart had more space to feel the person behind the performer.

The brilliance, the pressure, the loneliness, the sensitivity… all of it and the fragility that sometimes exists behind greatness… :(

And yet, strangely, I also left the cinema feeling like I had attended one of Michael Jackson’s concerts. The music vibrating through the theatre, the iconic performances, the crowd energy, the emotions…it felt immersive.

For a few hours, it was almost as if time folded and a part of Michael came alive again through memory, music and storytelling.

And maybe that is why people like Michael, never truly leave. They remain through what they made us feel.

I also realised something today;

watching a movie alone can sometimes be deeply comforting. No conversations during emotional scenes. No distractions. Just me, the music, the memories and the emotions quietly unfolding in the dark cinema hall.

And honestly? I wouldn’t mind watching it a third time. Because…some stories are not only watched, they are felt differently each time.

A Mother’s Day Dream

2026-05-14T17:52:15.545+08:00

Mother’s Day this year felt quieter for me.

It has been almost a year and four months since my mom passed on and strangely enough, until recently, I had never dreamt of her.

Then, on Mother’s Day, she appeared.

It wasn’t a dramatic dream. There were no long conversations or emotional moments. I only saw a glimpse of her…wearing saree, quietly sweeping the floor.

Simple. Familiar. Ordinary.

And somehow, that made it even more emotional.

I remember waking up that morning still holding the dream clearly in my mind, almost surprised that she had come to me on Mother’s Day of all days.

Perhaps she had already been resting quietly in my thoughts before I fell asleep.

I remembered another small moment too. Back in 2024, I gave her a flower for Mother’s Day. Her immediate response was exactly what I would expect from her:

“Why waste money?”

I laughed then… because that was so much like her; practical, simple, never wanting unnecessary spending. And yet, she kept the flower.

That memory feels especially tender to me now.

Sometimes, after someone is gone, it isn’t the grand moments we miss most. It’s the ordinary things. Their voice. Their habits. Their familiar reactions. The small ways they moved through daily life.

Maybe that is why the dream stayed with me so deeply.

Not because it felt extraordinary.

But because, for a brief moment, it felt like something familiar had quietly returned.

Happy Mother’s Day! (I know it’s a little late but I hope mother’s here had wonderful moments with your loved ones!) ❤️💐❤️

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A YOGA TEACHER

2026-05-02T22:05:00.000+08:00

Currently, I teach Yin & Yang Yoga, which is my regular class every Friday morning.

Often, I also pick up sub-classes, mainly Detox and Hatha Yoga.

I’m engaged by a local hot yoga studio near my vicinity. Being a freelancer, I move quite a bit, teaching corporates and residents in condominiums as well.

WHAT REALLY HAPPENS BEFORE I TEACH A YOGA CLASS

So, about my profession as a yoga teacher… there’s always a quiet moment before class begins. The room is ready. Mats and props are laid out. The space feels calm.

But inside me… something else is already in motion. Because preparing for a yoga class is never just about the poses.

It starts with remembering

I don’t walk into a class and start from scratch. I carry the previous class with me.

What I noticed…who struggled…where students seemed lost…where they softened…

Recently, I had a class where a group of students didn’t fully understand English. And in that moment, I found myself moving between bodies, adjusting, guiding and trying to make sure they felt safe in the pose.

But while doing that, I also became aware of something else…

The rest of the class was waiting. Holding. Staying longer than intended. That moment stayed with me.

So I rethink…

After class, I don’t just move on. I sit with it. Not in a critical way but in a curious way.

“What could I have done differently?”

And that’s when the planning begins again. Not just what to teach…but how to teach it better.

My little journal

I carry a notebook with me everywhere. I call it my journal.

Every class I teach… every sequence I craft… finds its way into those pages.

Sometimes it’s neatly written. Sometimes it’s messy, with arrows and last-minute changes. And then there are days…when time doesn’t quite go as planned.

Classes back-to-back. Traffic. Life happening in between.

And I find myself doing a quick, last-minute run-through…mentally stitching the sequence together just before class begins.

That’s the truth about my day in the life of a yoga teacher… 🤭

It’s not always slow and serene. Sometimes it’s a little rushed… and very human.

Planning is not just sequencing

Yes, I plan the flow. How we begin. How we move. How we soften.

Sometimes, I get inspiration from social medias when I get a brain fog! 😂 But mostly, flipping through my journal and improvising existing ones by adding new poses and transitions in the flow of sequences to make it a brand new flow.

But now, in Yin, I also think about:

how to make shapes easier to understand
how to give time for exploration
how to prevent students from feeling rushed… or left behind

So I started introducing the yin poses earlier in the class.

Not to hold them…but just to let the body recognise them.

A few breaths. A simple experience. So that later, when we return to the same pose…there is less confusion and more ease.

Teaching is not one-directional

In every class, there are different bodies, different needs and different levels of understanding.

Some students follow verbal cues easily. Some need to see. Some need time.

So I’ve learned that teaching is not just about speaking and cueing.

It’s about:

showing
pausing
observing
and sometimes stepping back

Because not every student needs more instruction.

Sometimes they just need space.

The invisible part

There’s also a quieter preparation that no one sees.

Before class, I take a moment to settle myself. To slow down my breath. To arrive fully.

Because students don’t just listen to what I say. They feel how I am.

Letting go, a little

Even with a plan, I’ve learned not to hold it too tightly. Because every class unfolds differently. Sometimes I adjust. Sometimes I simplify. Sometimes I say less.

And sometimes, in the stillness, a single sentence lands…and something shifts in the room.

The class doesn’t end when it ends

After the class, there’s another quiet moment.

Noticing. What worked. What felt too long. What felt just right.

And slowly, the next class begins to take shape.

In the end

Preparing for a yoga class is not just about teaching movement.

It’s about learning how to hold space for many people at once, while still allowing each person to have their own experience.

And every time I step onto the mat to teach……

I begin again.

If you have read to this end and if you’re a yoga teacher or student reading this and…if you feel like sharing your own experiences, I’d love to hear what your version of this looks like.

Episode 6 - Continuation of Life’s Journey (2025)

2026-04-21T07:39:00.001+08:00

After several years of reflection, teaching and life unfolding in unexpected ways, I returned to blogging on 8th October 2025. The hiatus had been long, but it gave me perspective, patience and clarity.

Writing again felt like reconnecting with an old friend; the voice I had nurtured over years, now tempered with experience, resilience and gratitude. Life had taken me through grief, transformation, uncertainty and joy. I had grown, not only as a teacher but as a person who continues to learn from every breath, every pose, every quiet moment on and off the mat.

This return to the page is not just about documenting the past but about honoring the journey as it continues, embracing the present and looking forward to what still lies ahead.

Life, like yoga, is never static; it flows, shifts and unfolds and we move with it as best as we can, with awareness, presence and heart.

Reflection: Returning to writing feels like coming home. The journey continues and I move forward with awareness, heart and presence.

Episode 5 - The Pandemic & Life of Uncertainty (2021)

2026-04-18T15:42:00.000+08:00

Life had settled into a new rhythm when the world changed.

By the end of 2019, uncertainties began to emerge. Then came COVID-19 and everything shifted. Studios closed, travel halted and routines we once took for granted disappeared.

March 2020 brought lockdowns and life felt fragile, unpredictable and surreal.

The world was paused but the challenges and fears were very real; health, economy and the countless lives lost.

Yoga became a quiet refuge. While I could not teach in person, online sessions and mindful practice kept some connection alive - for me and for my students.

By October 2021, restrictions eased. Studios reopened, travel resumed and slowly life regained some rhythm.

Yet the lessons of uncertainty lingered. We had witnessed the fragility of life, the value of resilience and the importance of gratitude.

This chapter was a reminder that survival itself is a gift and that even amidst global upheaval, our inner practice can anchor us, guide us and connect us to what truly matters.

Reflection: Even amidst global chaos, I realize how, small moments of practice, mindfulness and connection kept me grounded and grateful.

Episode 4 — The Leap & New Life (2017)

2026-04-11T17:50:00.003+08:00

After the quiet, reflective months of grief and healing, a new chapter began.

By the end of February 2017, I finally left the corporate world.

On 1st March, waking up without the familiar rush of office life felt surreal…almost unreal. It took me nearly a month to adjust, to feel grounded in this new rhythm.

But with time, freedom and clarity, I stepped fully into being a full-time yoga teacher. I secured a studio, began teaching and discovered that my classes were well received.

There was joy in guiding students through poses, in witnessing their progress and in sharing the practice that had carried me through so much.

This period was more than just career change. It was learning to trust my intuition, embracing uncertainty and stepping into a life aligned with my passion.

The leaps felt big but the rewards…fulfillment, connection and purpose were immeasurable!

Reflection: Reading this today, I feel the courage it took to leap and the joy that came from trusting my passion and intuition.

EPISODE 3 - THE CALLING & LOSS (2015-2016)

2026-04-08T10:43:00.004+08:00

2015 brought a turning point, both joyful and deeply painful.

In March, I began my Yoga Teacher Training. For three intense months, I immersed myself in the practice…learning, stretching, breathing and discovering the deeper dimensions of yoga.

Those sessions taught me discipline, patience and the joy of opening myself to growth.

By June, I had completed my 200-hour YTT certification…ready to step into teaching.

Yet, life had another challenge waiting for me. On 18th July 2015, my beloved sister passed away. The grief hit me like a tidal wave. On one hand, I had to be strong for my mom, making sure she was okay. On the other, I was trying to navigate my own heartbreak. The world felt heavy, and the joy I had just discovered in yoga seemed distant at times.

During those months, I stopped blogging.

Words that once flowed freely, felt impossible. There were days when even standing on the mat felt like a struggle. And yet, even in that dark pit, yoga quietly stayed with me…the breaths, the postures, the mindfulness. They became small anchors, subtle reminders that life continues and healing is a process.

By the end of 2016, I found a way to slowly return to writing.

It was not about perfection or progress anymore….it was about honoring the journey, including the hard, silent parts. Those pauses, though painful, shaped my perspective and strengthened my resolve to live fully, teach authentically and embrace the uncertainties that life brings.

Reflection: I remember the grief and silence and I honor the strength it took to keep going. Those months shaped me in ways words cannot fully capture.

EPISODE 2 — SEARCHING & STRENGTH (2012)

2026-04-06T15:59:00.000+08:00

By 2012, my writings became deeper.

There were days when I felt lost, tired and stuck in the darkness of my own thoughts. I would search for answers, cry and sometimes feel defeated.

Yet, even in that emotional turbulence, I made a conscious choice… to rise again.

I wrote about forgiveness, letting go of resentment and how holding onto anger only weighs you down.

These early reflections were the foundation of a lesson I would carry through life; even when the path feels unclear…resilience, awareness and conscious effort guide us toward growth.

Reflection: Looking back, I see how even in moments of doubt, I was learning resilience… a foundation that would carry me forward.

EPISODE 1 — THE YOUNGER ME (2011)

2026-04-05T22:25:00.001+08:00

Reading my old writings from years ago made me smile, laugh and sometimes pause. Some were funny, some emotional, some dramatic … but always honest.

Back in 2011, I imagined God bowling during thunderstorms…lightning was His strike, thunder the angels’ applause and the rain?

A little sad when He missed! Even then, I was turning fear into imagination and finding comfort in playfulness.

I also wrote small, earnest prayers…asking for help with my diet, hoping to resist temptation and promising myself to exercise.

And yet, I also had my fears of darkness, uncertainty and the things I could not see. Writing about them helped me process these small, quiet anxieties.

Reflection: Reading this now, I smile at my younger self…playful, curious and already searching for comfort and meaning in small ways.

A SMALL BOUQUET, A BIG HEART

2026-03-02T09:11:00.002+08:00

Yesterday, I reconnected with my niece after a few months. We shared a late lunch, laughed together and caught up on life.

She surprised me with a small bouquet of flowers, such a simple gesture, yet it touched me deeply.

It reminded me that love doesn’t always arrive in grand declarations. Sometimes it comes quietly, wrapped in petals and held out with care.

Seeing her thoughtfulness, her love and the changes in her ie responsible, caring, soft-spoken and still fun, filled my heart.

Her text afterward said:

‘Aww…enjoy the bunch atteh! They remind me of you”.

I smiled. She’s a mirror of me in many ways; rebellious yet loving, independent yet tender.

Holding these flowers, I felt both light and full at the same time. It’s a beautiful reminder that even after distance, love finds its way back, softly, naturally and meaningfully.

And quietly, I feel hope.

Hope for her journey ahead, hope for the lessons she has embraced and hope that she will continue to grow into the caring, compassionate person I always knew she could be. ❤️

DINNER, BRIYANI & BLONDE LEFFE

2026-03-02T08:14:00.000+08:00

I started the evening thinking, ‘’There’s no way I can eat another bite,’’ yet somehow, three hours later, I found myself diving into fish biryani, sharing pani puri and ending with a Blonde Leffe. Food coma? What food coma?” 🤣🤣🤣

End of February evening was a little adventure in itself, starting from “I’m too full for dinner” mode.

After biscuits and coffee earlier, I was already feeling… a bit stuffed. Honestly, I questioned how I’d even touch a full dinner later. But sometimes, life surprises you and hunger has a way of showing up at just the right moment.

The expat gathering began with familiar smiles and chatter. The table was colorful, aromatic, and tempting! @Tasty Chapati

Tenggiri fish dum biryani, served with boiled egg, dal and a spinach cream sauce
Pani puri, six pieces shared among us, playful and messy in the best way

Every bite reminded me that food isn’t just nourishment…it’s shared experience, laughter and small indulgence. Even my “full” stomach seemed willing to make room for these delights.

After dinner, we adjourned to a German pub next door. I hadn’t had alcohol in weeks, but curiosity and camaraderie called for a tiny detour. The recommendation was a Blonde Leffe Beer.

The first sip was… interesting, like beer mixed with stout, smooth yet slightly surprising. One glass was all I needed…intentional, savored and fully present. No rush, no overindulgence, just a small, mindful celebration of the evening.

Reflecting on the night, I realize how small moments matter…

Sharing pani puri, laughing at little spills
Savoring biryani with friends
Trying something new without overdoing it

Even in indulgence, there’s calm, awareness and a little joy. Life doesn’t have to be extreme to be memorable.

And yes… I thought to myself …..tomorrow, the diet begins…and it never did! 😂

FAMOUS LAST WORDS (NETFLIX)

2026-03-01T19:51:00.001+08:00

Heartfelt Reflections on Life, Love and Legacy

I just finished watching Famous Last Words on Netflix and wow… my heart is full, heavy and inspired all at once.

The concept is unlike anything I’ve seen; notable figures sit down for a deeply intimate interview, recorded while they’re alive but only released after they’ve passed away. It’s haunting, intimate and incredibly moving.

Eric Dane

Love and Courage in the Face of ALS

Eric Dane’s episode hit me deeply. Facing ALS, he recorded his final words with love, honesty and courage. Directed to his daughters, his reflections were personal, emotional and heartbreaking…yet inspiring.

Dr. Jane Goodall

Wisdom for the Planet

Watching Jane Goodall speak, I felt the weight of a life devoted to understanding and protecting life. Her reflections on hope, small actions and the ripple effect of kindness were beautiful. She reminded me that every life matters and even tiny gestures can create profound change.

Brad Falchuk

The Calm Presence That Draws You In

Brad Falchuk’s gentle, attentive presence guides these conversations with patience, care and grace.

Watching him, it becomes clear how powerful it is to hold space for someone fully, letting stories, emotions and reflections unfold naturally.

And yes… I have to admit, I started to have a little crush on him…hahaha!

My Thoughts, Hopes and Advice

If I could leave my final words, here’s what I’d share:

Love fully. Don’t hold back kindness or affection.
Cherish small moments; the laughter, the chats, the little joys.
Embrace mistakes…they are lessons not failures.
Stay curious; keep learning and exploring.
Carry the wisdom of those you love…you are never truly alone.
Laugh often…even in chaos, humor heals.
Be brave, step forward when it matters and sit still when you need to observe.

Life is messy, fleeting and full of possibilities.

May these words remind you to cherish small moments, carry love in your heart and find courage and joy in each day. ❤️

1ST MARCH & THE TRIPLE Rs

2026-03-01T11:21:00.000+08:00

The first morning of March arrived quietly.

A little sunshine, but not bold…a little gloom but not heavy.

Green tea with a small stick of cinnamon brewing beside me.

After a short night’s sleep, a full dinner, laughter with friends and too many thoughts about the world, my body is asking for something different today.

Not ambition. Not intensity. Not “new month, new goals.”

Just three simple things.

Recovery.

The body is wise. It recovers when we allow it to. From lack of sleep, from emotional conversations, from heavy meals and even from overthinking. Recovery is not laziness. It is repair.

Reflection.

Some friendships shift. Some news unsettles us. Some moments reveal how much we’ve grown. Reflection is not dwelling. It is understanding.

Reset.

Not punishment. Not strict dieting. Not cutting people off dramatically. Just small adjustments. Softer boundaries. Gentler mornings. Clearer intentions.

We often rush into a new month wanting to conquer it.

Today, I choose to meet March calmly.

To sip slowly. To move gently and to respond instead of react.

March begins not with force but with awareness.

As March begins, which R do you need most? Recovery, Reflection or Reset?

LITTLE MISCHIEVOUS RASCAL (IN MY EAR)

2026-03-01T11:15:00.000+08:00

Sometimes, life gives us little companions we never asked for —-> like tinnitus, which I now affectionately call my “little rascal.” (little R)

Mine started back in 2019, after a few swimming lessons. The pool, the water pressure and all that ear exposure seemed to awaken it. At first, it was faint, almost playful and easy to ignore. Over time, it became a quiet presence, usually noticeable in still, silent moments.

Today, as I woke up, little R was already awake, gently nudging, reminding me of its presence. The timing was curious, but familiar. That’s the nature of this tiny companion i.e it appears when the world is still, when the mind is quiet and when I least expect it.

For me, this little rascal is mostly mild. It can appear faintly on one side, shift slightly but the secret is…it’s mostly in the brain’s perception, not a warning sign.

The key is habituation; learning to acknowledge it without giving it power.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

Selective engagement works wonders

* When I’m teaching, moving, laughing or fully engaged, little R fades into the background.

Quiet moments amplify awareness

* That’s normal. In stillness, the brain notices subtle internal sounds more.

Gentle observation is key

* Do not over-manipulate. Attempting to blow, press or check repeatedly only makes it more noticeable. (I did blow to release and one ear got blocked and it took awhile to be back to normal). Gentle swallowing, movement or chewing (yes, even celery!) helps naturally.

* Simply noticing that it exists without labeling it as bad or dangerous, lets the nervous system stay calm.

Honestly, little R is a funny companion. Sometimes it sneaks up during silence, sometimes it takes a nap during busy, joyful moments. Treating it lightly even joking about it, is the best approach. Humor + calm attention = less stress = less perception.

Tips from my experience:

1. Engage fully in life; teaching, socializing, moving and little R fades naturally.

2. Avoid repeated testing or forcing attention.

3. Use small, gentle techniques eg. chew, swallow, yawn or gently move your jaw.

4. Remember, it’s just sound. It does not define you.

If you’ve ever experienced persistent ringing or buzzing in your ears, you’re not alone. Many people have a “little rascal” in their ear. The good news is, it’s rarely harmful and the more you live fully and intentionally, the less it controls your experience.

For me, little R is now a quiet background note, part of the symphony of life, noticeable only if I choose to tune in.

And honestly? That’s fine by me.

This morning, as little R was already awake the moment I opened my eyes, I simply smiled. Life goes on and so does the buzz.

I choose selective hearing.

SULLIVAN’s CROSSING (NETFLIX)

2026-02-24T18:59:00.000+08:00

When Fiction Feels SO Real

Sometimes a TV show hits harder than life itself.

I just finished all three seasons of Sullivan’s Crossing and I can honestly say… I cried. Loudly. Like, sobbing-so-loud-I-could-hear-myself kind of cried.

Edna’s storyline was especially heart-wrenching. When she finally agreed to surgery, it felt like my heart might stop.

She only wanted Maggie to do it and Maggie’s license had been suspended while away in New York. Somehow, the hospital made it happen and Maggie performed the surgery.

Watching Edna’s vulnerability, her love and her fear before the operation was gut-wrenching.

It wasn’t just the plot…it was the actors. Everyone played their part so beautifully that I felt the pain, hope and relief as if it were happening to someone I actually knew. I cried like I lost someone I loved and yes… I could hear my own sobs echoing.

But here’s the bittersweet part…she was saved. And as the season ended, I felt that mix of exhaustion and awe; exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster, awed by the storytelling and performances that made me feel so deeply.

What I realized is this…great storytelling isn’t just plot twists or drama. It’s capturing the human experience. It reminds us to be compassionate, to feel deeply and to appreciate quiet heroism in everyday life.

Sullivan’s Crossing left me drained, emotional and yet grateful. And as I wait for the next season, I carry with me a renewed appreciation for empathy, patience and the stories that make us cry…and remind us we’re truly alive.

YOGA STUDIO GATHERING

2026-02-24T18:52:00.010+08:00

Celebrating Wins…

Recently, I attended a special gathering at the yoga studio I teach…the prize-giving for participants who completed the 30-days yoga challenge. The energy was light, celebratory and full of little human moments that warmed my heart.

The challengers and everyone who were present were smiling, exchanging stories and cheering each other on.

I especially loved seeing how consistency, even in small daily practices creates a sense of accomplishment and community.

The atmosphere was fun, supportive and full of laughter. Even quiet moments, just observing others share their experiences, made me reflect on the beauty of collective effort.

It reminded me that yoga isn’t just about poses…it’s about connection, progress and celebrating each step of the journey.

Whether a big milestone or a tiny improvement, recognition, encouragement and shared joy…they all amplify our growth.

Takeaway? Celebrate wins, support others and never underestimate the power of community to inspire and uplift.

Sharing a picture of my student and I after one of our yoga sessions - just for the fun!

CREDIT CARD DRAMA

2026-02-22T14:48:00.000+08:00

When Your Credit Card Decides to Cause Drama

Sometimes, life sends little reminders that even everyday things deserve attention.

Recently, my bank flagged a small USD charge as suspicious. My card was temporarily deactivated and I had to call the credit card center to resolve it.

At first, I was surprised what triggered the alert? After checking, it turned out to be a small fraudulent charge; a common “test” amount that scammers often try first.

The bank was quick to act and I now have a plan to cancel the old card and get a replacement. My two active subscriptions will be updated and my finances remain secure.

What struck me most wasn’t the inconvenience. It was how calmly everything was handled; by the bank and by me. No panic. No stress. Just verification, action and moving forward.

Takeaway? Life sometimes throws minor curveballs. How we respond…calmly, mindfully and with practical action, makes all the difference.

MY THROBBING KNEE & THE MRI ADVENTURE

2026-02-22T14:47:00.000+08:00

Some days, your body decides to teach you a lesson.

Recently, my right knee started acting up; sharp pain, locking and general grumbling I could no longer ignore. After a few gentle stretches, I realized this was not something to brush off.

I went straight to my orthopaedic, who ordered an MRI. The MRI experience itself deserves a story; cold room, loud machines and the quiet buzz

of the unknown. I found myself silently praying to my mom, dad and sisters (who apparently have a magic wand) and when I walked out of the MRI,

the pain had eased.

The results were informative but manageable:-

Tear of the posterior horn of the medial meniscus

Lateral collateral and popliteus ligament strain

Mild cartilage injury under the kneecap

Early degenerative changes

The doctor then advised physiotherapy, rest and gentle knee management. No surgery and importantly, I can continue teaching yoga with care.

Takeaway? Listening to your body, taking early action and responding with humor and mindfulness makes all the difference.

Small injuries don’t define you; your choices do! And yes… a little prayer to the family magic wand doesn’t hurt either! 😊✨🪄

YOGA, OILS & CHAPATI

2026-02-20T21:22:00.000+08:00

Yoga, Oils & Chapati: A Full-Circle Day

After my Yin & Yang yoga this morning, I already felt like my body had woken up in full orchestra mode; slow stretches, deep breaths and knees cooperating like little champions.

Fast forward to the afternoon and I was at Health & Beyond (Treatment & Wellness) for an Ayurveda massage, a thoughtful treat from my boss. My therapist, Anu Priya from Kerala, has over 10 years of experience and wow… her hands were magic!

We started with warm oil on my head and neck while I sat on the chair. Pure bliss. Then came the calf massage, the very spot that cramped a few days ago decided to remind me it exists. 😅

But Anu’s oil pack technique worked wonders, the cramp calmed down and my left back tension melted away. By the end, my body was floating.

Then… hunger pangs hit. I had only had breakfast and my metabolism was doing cartwheels. So naturally, I landed at Tasty Chapati at The Curve; a cozy North Indian spot that smells like heaven.

I ordered chapati with chicken varuval and dhall. The first two chapati pieces were tiny, so naturally, I had to get more.

Sharing their Instagram profile: https://www.instagram.com/tastychapathirestaurant?igsh=MW9xc3lzaHhiZTRqbQ==

I started mindfully, savoring each bite like a true yoga practitioner. But then… surrendered. Full “tear-and-dip mode” activated 😂. By the end, I was fully satisfied and even packed the last chapati and dhall for later; smart post-feast planning, if I do say so myself.😊

The day reminded me how nourishment comes in many forms; the stretch and strength from yoga, the healing touch of a skilled massage therapist and the comfort of flavorful food shared with intention (even if it’s just with myself).

For anyone curious, check out Health & Beyond on Instagram for more details: @healthandbeyond.official

A day like today is a little full-circle gift; for body, mind and appetite alike.

AN ORDINARY DAY, HELD GENTLY

2026-02-09T23:28:00.000+08:00

Today didn’t look like much on the outside.

A short trip to mom’s place.

A little sweeping.

Car rides. Stairs.

A fan that needed fixing.

A pot of chicken soup left to simmer.

And yet, my heart keeps circling back to it.

It was at my mom’s place that my knee began to speak; a sharp, insistent reminder each time I got in and out of the car, each step up the stairs.

Nothing alarming, just clear.

A body asking to be listened to.

I smiled to myself, remembering how my mom used to tease me about my low pain tolerance. A “2” for most people easily becomes a “10” for me. Pain be it physical or emotional, has always reached me quickly. So does grief.

But maybe that sensitivity isn’t weakness. Maybe it’s honesty.

Looking back now, I realise how my day quietly unfolded around care.

So, as I was at mom’s home, I cleared a little space. I brought something familiar back with me; the table fan I’d been using there. And so, I cleaned it, dismantled it, put it back together and let it spin again.

And then, without much thought, I made chicken soup. Not the rushed kind. The kind that simmers.

A drumstick. Onions, garlic, ginger.

Red dates, black raisins, wolfberries.

Potatoes. Pink salt.

And because the soul asked for it, a splash of red wine.

As it bubbled quietly on the stove, something softened in me.

Only later did I understand that this wasn’t a productive day. It was a tending day!

To memory. To the body. To grief that doesn’t always announce itself loudly. To the part of me that still knows how to soothe without words.

There are days when healing looks like effort and strength. And there are days when healing looks like soup, a working fan and listening when the knee says “enough.”

Today was the latter. And that was more than enough.

It makes me think louder that just like in yoga, sometimes the most important practice is showing up gently, listening and allowing space; for the body, the heart and the soul.