A MORNING AT THE NEPAL EMBASSY KL

Wednesday’s little adventure took me to the Nepal Embassy for my visa endorsement; one more step closer to completing my travel arrangements for my Vipassana journey.

I had applied for the visa online and received a confirmation email, so all I had to do was bring my passport and the printed form to the Embassy. 

The process was surprisingly smooth: submit the passport, pay the visa fee, and it was done in about ten minutes.

The next day after 2 p.m., I’ll return to collect it.

Getting there was its own mini journey. I  took the MRT from Surian, switched at Pasar Seni to the LRT, got off at Masjid Jamek (just one stop!), and from there it was only a short 100-metre walk to Wisma Paradise, where the embassy is located.

It’s funny how something that felt so uncertain at first; a new place, new process; turned out to be simple once I took the first step. Sometimes that’s how journeys begin: one train ride, one quiet morning, and a passport on its way to new experiences. 

Notes / What I Felt:

The morning felt calm and purposeful. There was something grounding about doing things on my own. Figuring out the train routes, finding the building, and completing the process smoothly.

It reminded me that independence doesn’t have to feel lonely; it can feel steady, even comforting. Each small task done with intention feels like a quiet affirmation, that I’m moving forward, in my own time and in my own way.

With Vipassana drawing near, this moment felt symbolic too. A gentle reminder that every journey begins before we even pack our bags.

ANSWERING A LONG-AWAITED CALLING

For years, Nepal called to me; quietly, patiently.

I always felt it in small ways; in the stillness of mountains I hadn’t yet seen, in the pull toward silence I hadn’t yet embraced.

But I never went.

I couldn’t leave my Amma alone, and in my heart, I knew the timing wasn’t right.

Now, after her passing earlier this year, the call feels different; softer, but clearer.

It’s no longer about escape or adventure, but about peace. About finally listening to what I’ve been hearing for so long.

This December, I’ll be heading to Nepal, not just to travel, but to sit in silence, to listen inward, and perhaps, to heal.

I fly mid December and will stay a night in the city before checking in at the council office to register for the journey to the foothills of Dhamma Shringar, where my ten-day Vipassana meditation begins. 

For ten days, there will be no phones, no conversations; just silence, breath, and the hum of my own awareness.

On Christmas morning, I’ll leave Dhamma and return to the city for two quiet days before flying home. The timing feels perfect; just in time for Amma’s first-year prayer the following morning (according to our Hindu calendar).

Between now and then, it’s all planning…what to pack for the winter, how to prepare my mind, and how to keep my heart open for what’s to come.

I can’t quite explain it, but I know I’m being led where I need to be.

Notes / What I Felt:

Writing this feels tender, like holding both past and future in my hands. There’s a quiet ache in preparing for this journey without Amma beside me, yet a deep peace in knowing she’s part of every step I take.

This trip to Nepal feels less like travel and more like surrender…to stillness, to silence, to whatever healing needs to unfold.

Maybe that’s what courage looks like now, listening to life’s quiet invitations and saying yes, even with a trembling heart. 

For now, I’m simply letting the journey unfold one quiet step, one honest breath at a time.

A FRIENDSHIP REVISITED

 A Friendship Revisited

Some connections span decades, stretching across time and distance, waiting quietly to be remembered.

I first knew him many years ago, back when I had just arrived in Kuala Lumpur. Life took him to Australia with his girlfriend, and over the years, our paths drifted apart. We lost contact, as sometimes happens, until two years ago, in the most unexpected of ways.

I was on a weekend holiday in Port Dickson, staying in a tepee, having dinner at the ranch’s bar. Out of nowhere, a man approached me, asking if I knew a certain girl and another friend’s name. I looked at him, puzzled, and then I asked: “Are you …?” And just like that, decades melted away. We hardly recognized each other, yet there was an immediate spark of recognition. It was the beginning of our reconnection.

Over the last two years, we shared small moments, mostly when he visited Malaysia. I learned of his life, the divorce, his daughter, his remarriage, his new daughter … and though life had carried him on many journeys, our friendship quietly resumed its place in the tapestry of my life.

Then, two days ago, I saw the family’s post on Facebook. He had passed away. My heart sank. I cried. The shock of loss mingled with the sweetness of having known him again, if only briefly. I reached out to the ranch owner, his close friend, and we shared in our disbelief and sorrow.

And the ranch owner said this to me;

“Yes, it is tough to lose the ones we love,  but we have hope that there will be a Resurrection. As JWs we believe in the Resurrection hope. So we are very sure of meeting him again in the very near future”.  

Life is unpredictable. Some connections return when we least expect them, bringing joy and warmth. And even when those connections are fleeting, they leave an imprint, a reminder that love, friendship, and recognition can transcend years and distance.

Notes / What I Felt:

Reconnecting with him felt like a secret gift from life, a reminder that even after decades, bonds can quietly reappear. Grief is heavier when it follows such rare, unexpected joy. Yet I carry gratitude in my heart; for the laughter, the recognition, the brief time we shared again.

Even in loss, there is presence; the memory, the warmth, the echo of friendship threading quietly through my days.

Though his time has ended here, the memory of our friendship, its surprises, laughter, and reconnections, will quietly thread through my heart, reminding me of the beauty of bonds that endure beyond years and distance.

HALLOWEEN HORROR SAUNA SPECIAL

October – Halloween Horror Sauna Special: “The Breakup Diva”

If you think saunas are just for sweating and relaxing, think again. Sometimes, they’re a front-row seat to the most unexpected comedies, like children shouting at the top of their lungs, or dramatic phone breakups echoing against the steam. 

And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

So there I was, enjoying the calm steam of the sauna, when in walks… drama.

A girl pulls out her phone and immediately launches into a full-on, Oscar-worthy breakup plea:

“Please, don’t do this! I can change, I swear!”

Her voice rises over the gentle hiss of the sauna, echoing off the wooden walls like a tragic symphony.

Then, just as suddenly, she hangs up. Silence… and then, a scream. Followed by wailing. Full-on, tear-streaming, face-in-towel crying. Steam and emotions mix into what can only be described as a horror-comedy sauna scene.

Everyone else tiptoes around, pretending not to notice, while silently questioning their life choices, I presume. 😀

The meditative calm is gone, replaced by the echoes of heartache… perfect for an October horror special.

Moral of the story: Saunas are sacred… unless someone brings heartbreak. Then it’s screams and steam. 😅

WHEN SAUNAS MEET TINY TORNADOES

WHEN SAUNAS MEET TINY TORNADOES

This was a few weeks ago, let me share what happened. 

So there I was, enjoying a peaceful sauna, when in walked two adults and three kids under ten. I politely reminded the mother about the notice outside: “Under 10 not allowed unless supervised.” …oops! I quickly backpedaled, thinking, “Okay, you can come in, just stay close.”

And then the chaos began. The kids immediately turned the sauna into their personal megaphone arena, shouting at volumes I didn’t even know humans could reach. 

I tried the classic “look but don’t touch” technique; silent glaring and subtle head shakes. 

After a few rounds of this intense eye contact diplomacy, the mothers finally got the message. 

Miraculously, the tiny tornadoes exited the sauna, leaving a serene, sweat-scented calm behind.

Moral of the story: Saunas are meant for relaxation… not full-blown acoustic concerts. 😂

P/s: And I have one more sauna story to share and it happened yesterday…coming up! 

THE EMBASSY THAT ALMOST WAS

The Embassy That Almost Was

Yesterday, I set off to the Nepal Embassy, submission form in hand, determined to get a visa stamped. 

But, KL traffic had other plans. 

Finding the embassy was tricky. And parking was the real challenge. 

After circling the block a few times and noticing police already blocking roads for the ASEAN Summit, I realized this adventure might be better left for another day.

So, I came back home. 

Closing Notes:

Sometimes, it’s not about reaching the destination. 

It’s about the little chaos along the way and the stories you bring home instead. 

A DIWALI IN TWO MOMENTS

A Diwali in Two Moments

And so, my story continues…

After quiet reflections during Diwali, I found myself looking forward to small joys, like meeting some friends for breakfast. It reminded me how life can surprise you in the simplest ways and how small the world can feel. 

Just as soon as we gathered, already the chatter was enough to make the morning brighter than I expected.

There were warm smiles, gentle laughter, and the aroma of shared food; each of us carrying our own stories, our own memories, yet drawn together by the same festive light.

It felt comforting to be surrounded by people from all walks of life; different accents, different journeys and yet the same joy glowed softly between us.

Sometimes celebration is not about noise or grandeur, but about presence; being there, with an open heart.

It was a Diwali in two moments. 

One of remembrance.

One of togetherness.

Both filled with love.

It’s mornings like these that remind me: turning a page sometimes means showing up, smiling, and letting life surprise you, one shared breakfast at a time.