Back to Earth

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThere's a particular gear-change that happens on the first day back after a holiday. The body is present, the mind mostly so, but somewhere in between there's a faint drag — like driving with the handbrake half on. You remember how to do everything; you just remember it slightly slower than usual.

Clinic was busier than expected, which is often the way after a break. The appointments stack up while you're away, patients accumulate like unread emails, and the whole thing spills well past lunchtime. There's no easing back in gently. The day simply starts at full pace and expects you to keep up.

By two o'clock, I was in a virtual meeting with the Asia Pacific Leukaemia Consortium, which on any other afternoon might have commanded my full attention. Today, though, the tank was running on fumes. I sat through it with the particular brand of tired concentration where you're technically following the discussion but couldn't reliably summarise it five minutes later. The spirit was willing. The eyelids had other ideas.

The rest of the afternoon was given over to paperwork — the administrative backlog that builds quietly during any absence, waiting patiently for your return like a loyal but deeply tedious pet. I worked through it steadily enough, but the clock seemed to move with deliberate slowness, each completed form immediately replaced by another.

Home after six, which felt late for a Friday. An early dinner, nothing elaborate, just fuel. The kind of meal where function wins comfortably over form.

The evening, though — the evening delivered. We sat down for the season finale of For All Mankind, and it did not disappoint. There's something bittersweet about reaching the end of a season you've been genuinely invested in. You want the resolution, but you don't want the watching to stop. The finale landed well — satisfying without being neat, conclusive without closing every door. And the good news is there's another season coming, which softens the blow considerably. Even better, a new spin-off series has been announced — Star City — which suggests the universe they've built isn't finished expanding. More of that world is hard to argue with.

It's a funny thing, finishing a long day of work that drains you and then finding energy you didn't know you had for a television programme. Perhaps that's what good storytelling does — it borrows from a different reserve entirely. The one that clinic and consortium meetings can't touch.

The weekend starts tomorrow. The holiday may be over, but at least the week had the decency to be short.

The Day That Changed Its Mind

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThe plan was simple: do nothing. Second day of Raya, nowhere to be, no obligations pulling at the sleeve. The kind of day you sketch out in your head as a long, unbroken stretch of idleness. But days, as a rule, don't much care for plans.

Word came through that there had been a death — these things arrive without warning, as they always do, rearranging the shape of a morning in an instant. Abang Razak and I made our way to the mosque for the prayers. There's not much to say about these moments that isn't already understood. You go, you stand, you offer what you can, which is mostly just your presence. The ritual holds you when words fall short.

We were finished by lunchtime, and the pivot from solemnity to sustenance felt natural enough. We headed to Rebung, which was mercifully quiet — school holidays keeping the usual crowds at bay. There's a particular pleasure in Rebung when it's not heaving: you can actually taste the food rather than simply survive the queue. The spread was as generous as ever, and we ate with the unhurried appreciation of people who'd earned their lunch through an unexpectedly full morning.

The afternoon belonged entirely to the sofa. I napped with the kind of commitment that borders on athletic, only to surface later with a headache that suggested I'd perhaps overdone the horizontal. There's a cruel irony in sleeping so hard you wake up feeling worse. The body has a strange sense of humour sometimes.

By evening, though, things had recalibrated. Dinner at Gardens was the gentle reset the day needed — pleasant surroundings, good food, the headache retreating somewhere behind the second glass of water. Meanwhile, Anita had shifted into preparation mode for Julia's visit next week, which involves a particular kind of domestic energy that I've learned to observe from a respectful distance. Cushions get repositioned. Surfaces get scrutinised. Standards are applied that I didn't know existed.

Later, we settled in for a film — Mercy, which turned out to be a decent way to close a day that had covered rather more ground than anticipated. From mosque to movie, via Rebung and a regrettable nap. Not the day of pure relaxation we'd envisioned, but something richer for its detours.

Clinic tomorrow, which means the holiday is officially folding itself away. But there's no complaint in that. The break did what breaks are supposed to do — it broke things up, shifted the rhythm, let the ordinary fall away for a few days. Back to it, then.

Arrivals and Offerings - Aidil Adha 2026

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThe alarm went off at a hour that barely qualifies as morning, but there was no reluctance in it. Some early starts carry their own momentum, and driving to KLIA to collect Irfan is one of them. The roads were empty in that particular way they only manage on public holidays — the kind of quiet that makes KL feel like it's still deciding whether to wake up.

I reached the airport just after six, expecting a wait. KLIA on Aidil Adha morning has a stillness to it that you'd never believe if you've only seen it during peak season — all that polished marble and soaring architecture with almost nobody in it. As it turned out, the wait was shorter than planned. Irfan's flight landed a full forty-five minutes early, which is the kind of pleasant surprise that airlines so rarely deliver. He appeared through arrivals looking well, and just like that, the thing I'd been quietly looking forward to all week was done. Everyone home.

We were back by eight, the morning still young and full of possibility. The day's main obligation was the Qurban in Bukit Antarabangsa — the ritual sacrifice that sits at the heart of Aidil Adha. There's a particular atmosphere to these gatherings: communal, unhurried, purposeful. People milling about in the morning warmth, children darting between adults, the whole thing proceeding with the quiet organisation of something that happens every year and knows its own rhythm. We were all done by lunchtime, everything handled with satisfying efficiency.

Afterwards, the decision was made — as it often is on these occasions — to have some beef. When the day has already centred around the animal, it feels only right. We passed our share of the Qurban meat along to relatives, which is part of the whole spirit of the thing. The giving is the point, really.

The afternoon pivoted to something altogether more secular: shopping. Anita had a Rimowa trunk in her sights, and who am I to stand between a woman and well-engineered luggage? There's something almost architectural about Rimowa — the ridges, the precision, the satisfying click of the latches. A proper object. Then it was my turn for some clothes, because apparently one cannot live on the same rotation of shirts indefinitely, however strongly one might feel otherwise.

By the time we got home, the day felt genuinely full — the kind of full that comes from variety rather than exhaustion. Airport at dawn, Qurban by mid-morning, retail therapy by afternoon. Three quite different acts, all slotting together into something that felt complete.

Another day off tomorrow, which is a luxury worth savouring. But tonight, like last night, an early one. The body keeps its own counsel on these matters, and mine was making its position very clear.

The Art of Winding Down

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoTuesday had a specific energy to it — the quiet industriousness of someone tidying the house before going on holiday. Not frantic, just purposeful. Everything today carried the faint undertone of get this done properly so tomorrow can be tomorrow.

Clinic took up the morning, the usual rhythm of consultations ticking along at a steady clip. There's a particular satisfaction in morning clinic when it moves well — each appointment finding its natural length, nothing dragging, nothing rushed. The kind of session where you emerge at the other end feeling like the work did itself, even though you know perfectly well it didn't.

After lunch, the ward round had a clear objective: discharge as many patients as possible. There's an unspoken kindness in this before a public holiday — nobody wants to be sitting in a hospital bed over Aidil Adha if they don't need to be, and the ward staff deserve a lighter load too. So we moved through it with cheerful efficiency, ticking off the ones who were ready, making sure everything was in order. It's oddly gratifying work, sending people home. The paperwork is tedious, naturally, but the outcome is worth every duplicated form.

By three o'clock, the clinical side of the day was done. What remained was the administrative tail — the notes, the letters, the various bits of documentation that accumulate like sediment over a working day. I worked through them methodically, the kind of low-intensity task that suits a mind already half-turned towards tomorrow.

The drive home felt lighter than usual. Perhaps it was knowing there was nothing pressing on the other side of tonight. No alarm set to a punishing hour — well, actually, that's not quite true. The alarm would indeed be going off early, but for the best possible reason. Irfan lands tomorrow morning, and I'll be there to meet him. There's a different quality to an early start when it involves collecting someone you've been looking forward to seeing.

The evening was deliberately uneventful. Just the gentle deceleration of a day that had done its job. No grand plans, no elaborate dinner, nothing that required standing up for longer than strictly necessary. Sometimes the most luxurious thing you can do with an evening is absolutely nothing at all.

An early night, then. The kind where you're in bed before the hour feels remotely embarrassing, and entirely at peace with it. Tomorrow the holiday begins properly — Irfan home, Aidil Adha ahead, and two unhurried days stretching out like a cat in a sunbeam.

But that's tomorrow's entry. Tonight is just the pleasant business of stopping.

Glorious Beginnings

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThere's something almost unreasonably pleasant about a Monday that knows it's the start of a short week. The calendar had done us a proper favour — Aidil Adha falling on Wednesday and Thursday meant this was essentially a two-day working week dressed up in five-day clothing. The kind of arithmetic that makes even the most reluctant Monday feel like it's already leaning towards the weekend.

Better still, Irfan lands on Wednesday morning. The thought of that sat warmly at the back of everything today, a quiet countdown ticking away beneath the usual routine.

I had a medical student shadowing me this week, which always shifts the texture of the day slightly. You become more conscious of the rhythm of things, more inclined to narrate what you'd normally just do. We started with a proper tour of the hospital — the kind of walkabout that reminds you how sprawling the place actually is when you're not just moving between the same three corridors on autopilot. There's something grounding about seeing familiar spaces through someone else's eyes. You notice things again. The light in certain stairwells. The particular hum of a department finding its Monday legs.

Before lunch, there was a procedure to get through, which we did with satisfying efficiency. Then the afternoon was given over to clinic, and the hours folded into one another the way they do when you're properly occupied — not rushed, exactly, but purposeful. The kind of pace where you look up and realise most of the day has already happened without you noticing the seams.

By the time I left, the sun was doing that thing it does in KL when it decides to show off — not the punishing midday glare, but something warmer, more generous. Late afternoon light that turns everything slightly golden and makes even the car park look cinematic. I drove home bathed in it, windows down, the city softening around me.

There's a particular quality to a day like this. Nothing extraordinary happened, nothing worth a headline. But the whole thing hummed along with a kind of quiet rightness. A good start. A student finding their bearings. Work that moved at exactly the right tempo. And at the end of it, sunlight pouring through the windscreen like the day was wrapping itself up with a bow.

Two more working days, then the long weekend opens up. Irfan arriving. Aidil Adha. The prospect of slow mornings and unhurried afternoons. Sometimes the anticipation is its own kind of pleasure — knowing that the good bit is coming, and that the getting-there is rather lovely too.

The week, short as it is, feels full of promise. And if Monday is anything to go by, it intends to deliver.