Tag:Ramadan

Let me say this gently, with love, before maghrib and before anyone’s blood sugar drops: if your Ramadan serenity depends on one exhausted woman in the kitchen, that is not spirituality. That is logistics. Every year we romanticize the glow. The dates arranged like little jewels. The biryani steaming. The kuih neatly stacked. The children in fresh baju, the men discussing the khutbah, the aunties comparing zakat receipts. Mashallah, beautiful. But tell me—who soaked the lentils? Who checked the pantry? Who remembered that Uncle Rashid can’t eat spicy anymore and...

Let me tell you something about fantasies. They are very profitable — especially when the fantasy is brown, female, smiling, and foreign. For decades, the global imagination has done a number on Thai women. Somewhere between backpacker bars, late-night bachelor jokes, and that poisonous little phrase “happy ending,” an entire healing tradition got dragged into the gutter. Thai massage — nuad thai, an art recognized by UNESCO — became shorthand for male entitlement. And who pays the price? Not the joke-makers. The women. When a Thai therapist in rural Ireland...

Let me tell you something, darling: when people ask, “Is Asia safe for solo women?” what they’re really asking is, “Will I be allowed to exist in public without being bothered?” And that’s a very different question from crime statistics. I’ve travelled this continent long enough to know that safety is layered. In East Asia — think Japan, Korea, Taiwan — the system protects you. Trains run on time. Streets are lit. Rules are followed. You can walk home at midnight and your biggest problem might be choosing between ramen...

Ah, finally. The world has discovered what Asian families have known for centuries: if you want something done properly, call an auntie. So Singapore has decided to export us. Not durians. Not hawker centres. Not fintech. Aunties. And honestly? About time. For years, I’ve watched bright, overeducated, emotionally constipated adults outsource their love lives to algorithms designed by 26-year-old men who think “compatibility” means you both like tacos. Swipe left. Swipe right. Swipe until your thumb develops carpal tunnel and your heart develops cynicism. Romance reduced to metadata. And now?...

Oh darling, of course we’ve reached the point where your ex writes your dating reference letter. In a country where neitui — internal job referrals — can fast-track your career, why shouldn’t it also fast-track your love life? If HR can vet your résumé, surely your former girlfriend can vet your emotional stability. Efficient. Transparent. Very modern. Very… corporate. But let Auntie ask: when did romance become a performance appraisal? I understand the impulse. Dating apps are a jungle. Married men posing as single. Single men posing as billionaires. Billionaires...