I managed to catch up with Vasanthi before she boarded the plane to Australia. She’s off to Sydney for her Degree in Nursing. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t proud of her. In fact, I have every reason to be. Most people thought she wouldn’t make it. We proved them wrong.
The struggle this young woman has gone through… I always knew she had it in her. Nobody else came to the airport. She preferred it that way, she said. I understood.
Still, I’m glad she called me. She wanted to see me, she said. It’s been a long time. We’ve both been too busy with our own commitments. But I made the effort to come this time.
Even if I had to travel all the way from KL to Singapore just for her, I would. No questions asked. She’s like a daughter to me. Not by birth, but by heart. By every late-night conversation, every tear, every time I stood up for her when others gave up.
Some bonds are chosen. And this one, I chose. I’ve seen her laugh and cry at the same time.I’ve fought with her mother more times than I can count and that awful man she hangs around with.
Our confrontations were never hidden. Everybody knew. Even my husband.“I want to thank you, Aunty. For everything,” she said, reaching into her bag. “I’ve got something for you. I’d like you to have it.” She pulled out a book.
“Your reflective journal,” I recognized it immediately. I was the one who encouraged her to start writing one. “Reflective writing helps us think critically about what we do and why,” I’d told her long ago. I keep my own too. It helps me understand myself… especially my own actions.
To me, it’s more than just journaling feelings. It’s the sciencing of the self. You become the observer and the subject. You form hypotheses about your own behaviours. You track patterns, examine reactions, test beliefs.
You ask: Why did I do that? What outcome did it lead to? What could I have done differently? How do I know I’ve changed or am I just repeating old scripts with new costumes?
Like science, it demands honesty. Like science, it reveals uncomfortable truths. And like science, it’s always evolving. I never imagined she would keep the habit. But here it was—thick, filled with years of pages.“
This is my gift to you, Aunty. I can’t think of anything else to give you.” I was touched. She walked past the immigration counter, looked back only once, and waved. That was it. Ten years earlier.
Johor Bahru, Kota Tinggi Oil Palm Estate
It was just like any other weekend. The usual crowd, all waiting to see IYAN. They had camped out since the night before, flocking to the temple week after week. They came for different reasons—personal problems, family drama, workplace stress.
They wanted to speak to God, to hear God speak back, to be told what to do. To feel seen. To be reassured. They didn’t mind sleeping in the cold, waiting for hours, or even being beaten.In fact, they believed if HE beat them, it was a blessing. A cleansing. A removal of karma.
Me? I was there because I was curious. And because my husband was there. He believed in this place. So I had to find a reason to believe too if not for myself, then for him. Did he have a problem? Not that I could see.
Problems are always there. But this wasn’t about problems. He came because this place existed. Because it gave him something—a sense of connection. A duty he felt compelled to perform.
One night, I had a dream. I told him “I dreamt we left this place and came back after a long time. The temple was gone. Only a barren piece of land remained. No trees. No flowers. Nothing grew there.”
I saw the sadness in his face. “Please don’t say things like that again,” he pleaded. The temple must have meant something for him.
That was where I first met Vasanthi. She came with her mother. I saw her get scolded by by this AYYAN multiple times. He shouted at her for not studying. Screamed, really. Even from 30 meters away, you could hear every word. That’s how it worked here.
Nothing was private. Privacy was an alien concept. One evening, she came out from a session crying. Her mother sat nearby, looking helpless. Vasanthi had failed her A-Levels. Again.
Her second attempt.“I’ve tried my best, Aunty. I don’t know what went wrong,” she sobbed.“IYAN said it’s not good enough. He said I should have tried harder.” I sat next to her.“Tell me, what do you want to do?”
“I want to study again. I know I can. I just want another chance.”
“And so you shall. Maybe we should look at another avenue. Have you thought about that?”
“What avenue? IYAN insists I must do my A-Levels again.”
“Do you want that?”
“No. I don’t want that anymore. I just want to study. I just don’t know what.”
“Alright. Meet me on Tuesday. Come to SIM during lunch. I’ll be there on my day off, doing some literature search at the library. Let’s meet at the canteen. Bring your results. We’ll talk.”
AT SIM canteen… “Based on your results, and looking at the entry criteria across colleges… you only have two alternatives: teaching or nursing. You choose.” She looked down, then up.
“I don’t mind teaching, Aunty. But both my parents are teachers… and honestly, that doesn’t help. The situation at home… it’s complicated. I really don’t care which—as long as I get the chance to study. Any subject, I’ll accept.”
“Have you ever thought about nursing?”
“I did. But I have no experience in nursing. How can I even begin?”
I smiled. “I had no experience in nursing either. Nobody in my family comes from a nursing background. You should’ve seen their faces when I told them I wanted to be a nurse. They laughed at me. My uncle said I wasn’t made for it. Said I was too tomboyish, too rough. Told me I should join the army or become a police officer instead.” I shrugged, a little amused at the memory.
“But look at me—I’m still here. And I believe I made the right choice.”
She leaned in, curious now. “What did your mother say?”
“She says it’s up to me—the choice is mine. I’m the one who has to study, not her. But she also wants me to seek IYAN’s permission.”
“Why on earth do you need his permission? You’re the one who’s going to study not him. I’ve heard him screaming at you. Never anything positive to say. Whatever you do—it’s never good enough.” I shook my head.
“That’s what I’ll never understand. So if IYAN says no, your mother will just follow suit? You know what’s going to happen, right? They’ll discourage you. Make you doubt yourself. But the moment you succeed… Oh, suddenly they’ll all show up, clapping, claiming credit. IYAN will be jumping up and down, saying he guided you, he made it happen. And then he’ll go around broadcasting it to the whole world. Is that God’s way of doing things?”
She stayed quiet. “I don’t know, Aunty… but my mother trusts him so much.”
“I don’t. And that’s why sometimes just being at the temple… hearing and seeing everything going on… it makes me angry. So many things just don’t make sense to me.”
"You deserve better than to have your future dictated by someone's shouting."
“Nursing can be a stepping stone for you. You don’t have to remain a nurse all your life. Once you graduate, you might choose to branch out rehabilitation, physiotherapy… even law. You never know where life takes you. The Law lecturer in the University of Sydney’s Bachelor program? She was once a nurse. Went to law school after she graduated from nursing. So trust me your nursing background will never go to waste.”
She looked at me, this time with curiosity instead of fear.
“Tell me more about nursing then, Aunty. I’m willing to listen.” I nodded.
“As many have already said to you it’s a dirty job. You’ll spend your time cleaning people’s backsides. You’ll smell like stale faeces and urine. People will look down on you. They’ll say it’s no different from those men in the kampong who used to go house to house, carrying human waste from the bins to dispose of it. But here’s the thing: If you treat it as just a job, then that’s all it will be. But if you see it as a profession, a calling—a way to help others when they are most vulnerable then nursing becomes an incredible journey.The reward? It’s not in money. It’s in something else… something deeper.”
I paused, then smiled at a memory. “Once, during our first three months of basic training, my nursing tutor said something I never forgot: ‘It’s difficult for me to describe the feeling to you. But once you’re out there, you’ll understand. And she was right. I didn’t understand it then. But now… years later… I do. More and more each day. If you're looking for glamour… good money… or to look pretty all the time— then nursing is not for you. You’ll come in for morning duty and be greeted by patients soaked in stale urine, sometimes with faeces already dried on their backsides. And what do you do? You clean them and wash them. You make them feel fresh—human again. And what do they have to offer you in return? Nothing. Just one word: ‘Thank you’—and a smile. But you’ll know, deep inside, that they mean it. And that? That feeling—that you’ve done something good for someone helpless… That’s your reward. A kind of happiness that no money can ever buy. But remember this—no regrets. Whatever choice you make, stand by it. That’s one principle I live by. When people see nurses in white uniforms, they think it’s so pure. Angelic, even. But they don’t see the sacrifice behind that white. Let’s say you’re on morning duty and you’ve got a date at 2:30pm. Then at 2:00pm, a patient collapses. Can you say, ‘Sorry, I’ve got a date I need to go’? No. You stay. You help your team resuscitate that patient.Because nursing is about teamwork.You may not even like some of the nurses you work with. But once a patient collapses, you put all that aside. You don’t get to say, ‘I won’t help because I don’t like them.’When you’re saving a life, your emotions take a backseat. Likes, dislikes they disappear. All that matters is what’s good for the patient. That’s how I see nursing.”
“So think about it. Come back to me once you’ve decided. I’ll help you through this—just like someone once helped me a long time ago.”
She did come back. She was waiting for me in front of my house at Yishun Avenue. It was my sleeping day—three days of night duty, and one day off to rest.
We call it sleeping day because you’re supposed to be asleep that night. Supposed to. But there she was. “Aunty… I want to go into nursing.” I didn’t ask her what happened at the temple over the weekend. Didn’t need to. I already knew. The Drama, shouting, screaming… And somewhere in the middle of that noise, this girl found the courage to stand up and say: “I want to be a nurse.”
I told them I would take full responsibility for her studies. Of course, HE had something to say. He sent word through Vasanthi—he wanted to see me that weekend. I went two weeks later. I only go when I feel like it. Not when I’m ordered.
“What did he say to you?” I asked her.She looked down.“Same old lah, Aunty. He said I won’t make it.” She sounded so small in that moment.
“Don’t be sad,” I said. “Take it as a challenge. Now we have a mission, eh? We’re going to prove just how wrong they are about you.” I clapped my hands.
“And we can’t waste time. Today’s the last day to register. We’ve got a lot to do. Let me take a quick shower. Are you prepared to walk fast?”
She shook her head, laughing softly.
“Good! That’s the perfect start. Do you know nurses don’t walk in the ward?”
