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Hari Raya Aidilfitri
By Shanchaanas, 2 Trustworthiness (2026)
What does it mean to truly celebrate together and not just with food and fireworks but with forgiveness, family, and faith? I found myself asking this question during a cultural exchange week at school when my friend, Aisyah, who came from Malaysia, gave a presentation on Hari Raya Aidilfitri. The way Aisyah spoke with such passion and pride about the festival, describing it not only as a time for celebration but as an event of Malaysian culture, spirituality, and community, made me interested in hearing more about Malaysia’s culture.
Growing up in a small town in Australia, holidays were simple affairs and often centered around quiet gatherings and familiar traditions that revolved around home-cooked meals and time spent with loved ones. The idea of a festival so rich in joy and celebrated by millions was so fascinating to me. Aisyah showed us pictures from her own family and relatives celebrating Hari Raya Aidilfitri. Everyone was wearing vibrant traditional clothing, laughing together, and their home was filled with mouth-watering kuehs.
However, it was not the clothing and food that captured my attention. It was the togetherness and forgiveness that seemed to define Hari Raya. Aisyah explained that Hari Raya is not a celebration only for marking the end of Ramadan or the month of fasting, but also an opportunity for a reunion. Aisyah even shared about the fact that for muslims in Malaysia, it is a time to bond with each other, strengthen relationships, forgive past misunderstandings, and renew bonds of family and friendship. Aisyah explained that on the first day of Hari Raya, after the special prayers at the mosque, families would gather to ask for forgiveness for their past mistakes and offer it in return. The act of seeking and offering forgiveness before beginning the new year of the Islamic calendar speaks volumes about the values of compassion and humility.
The more Aisyah spoke about her experiences, the more I realised how inclusive the festival is. While Hari Raya is a Muslim holiday, it is celebrated by Malaysians of all ethnicities and religions. Moreover, it is not unusual for non-Muslims to join their muslims neighbors in the celebration since Chinese and Indian Malaysians often visit Malay families during open houses too! Aisyah shared how her family would invite their neighbors, both Muslim and non-Muslim, to celebrate together, exchange gifts, and enjoy food in a spirit of unity.
That day, I didn’t just learn about Malaysia, but I learnt about the importance of connection with the people around you. I learnt that Hari Raya is not just a celebration of the end of Ramadan, but it is a reminder that no matter where we come from, forgiveness, kindness, and community are the true pillars of any meaningful celebration.
Twisted Fairytale
By Qin En, 2 Resilience (2026)
The sound of the automatic moving glass door opening reached my ears. I could feel a gush of the warm surrounding air rush into the library. There I sat, holding a book within my grasp. The words written in bold screamed “Red Riding Hood”. With every minute that passed, I could feel my eyelids getting heavier and heavier. Before I knew it, I fell headfirst against the table.
As soon as my head fell against the table, I could feel my entire body falling. As if I were falling into a never-ending abyss. When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the air-conditioned library but in the middle of a forest, in a flower field. I slowly pushed myself up and lifted a hand to touch my forehead. I slid my hand down to my cheeks. It was no longer dry and thin, but instead it was plump and warm. Shocked, I tried lifting my other hand, but something tugged at it. It was a basket! A basket full of what I thought was a meatloaf.
Was this a dream? If it was, why does everything feel so real? This cannot be happening. I am stranded in the middle of nowhere, with a basket full of meatloaf! I stared at the basket of meatloaf in bewilderment. This has got to be a prank; maybe while I was sleeping, my friend decided to play a prank on me. I forced a smile and laughed,” Okay, buddy, you can come out now.” I stood up and spun around in hopes of finding my friend hidden somewhere, anywhere! Behind a tree, a rock, or a bush!
The rustling of a bush caught my attention. I stared at it with a glimmer of hope in my eyes. But what came out was not what I had expected. It was a wolf! A wolf that could walk on two….
I stared at the wolf. What big, mesmerizing eyes it had.
“Hello, my dear girl.” The wolf greeted me, returning my gaze. I immediately blinked awake. Could this wolf talk? I flinched as it took one step closer. I kept my cool, giving an air of indifference. The wolf took another step, but I did not react this time. The closer I examined the wolf, the more tense I got. The wolf had claws as large as a hammer. Teeth as sharp as a shark’s.
“My dear girl, where are you headed?” The deep voice of the wolf jolted me back to reality. I stared at the wolf for a short while. I shrugged. When I thought about the strange wolf and my red coat again, my expression twisted. I was in a book! A book that went by the name “Red Riding Hood”. How? How did I end up here? I looked at the wolf, my expression darkening.
“My grandmother’s house,” I replied, forcing a smile. The wolf gave a sound of acknowledgement before barking again.
“Ah.. I see…” It sounded almost like a low growl, a growl of a predator getting ready to pounce on its prey. Having said that, the wolf walked away, a smirk forming on his face. Since he was a talking wolf, I decided to name him “Mr Wolf.”
As soon as I saw that the wolf was out of my line of sight, I turned around and walked in the direction of my “grandmother’s” house. Continuing along the small, pleasant path, I could feel a presence behind me. A dangerous one.
I stopped in my tracks. Turning my profile sideways, I gave a little wink at “Mr Wolf” and made a run for it. I dashed forward, chest heaving unevenly. I was sprinting at top speed as if running for my life, except I am actually running for my life.
“Mr Wolf” quickened his pace before breaking into a sprint. Every strand of hair on my body stood up, and I begged my legs to accelerate. I saw a dim light suddenly appear. The closer I got, the brighter it became. I felt like gasoline had been poured to fuel the burning spark of hope within me.
Exiting the forest, I came to a stop. It was a dead-end. A cliff. If I jumped off, I would fall to my death. “Mr Wolf” was just right behind.
“My dear girl, I see you’ve finally decided to let me eat you.” The wolf sneered. He sprinted towards me at full speed with his claws bared, ready to swing at me. But I had already come up with a plan. With the sprinting wolf rushing towards me, I turned sideways, swiftly dodging the wolf’s swinging punch. Which made him stagger and fall back, but there was no solid ground to catch him, only air molecules.
“Arghhhhh!” He howled, glaring daggers at me as he fell back. However, the wolf held onto the rocky edge of the cliff, unwilling to let go and fall to his death. I smirked and slowly approached the wolf. I stomped on his unusually humanoid paws and kicked.
I had thought the wolf would fall. But at the last minute before falling, he had gripped on my swinging ankle and pulled me down with him.
“If I’m going down, you’re coming down with me!” He laughed hysterically, licking his maw. I fell, swinging my arms frantically. But I was unable to scream. Why? I was being unusually calm…
“Thump!” My eyes jolted open, and my breathing was uneven. I was back in the air-conditioned library with my book between my palms. I heaved a sigh of relief. I got to experience the feeling of falling off a cliff. This shall forever be an unforgettable experience.
Simply Human
Simply Human
By Thazin
There was a time when no words could capture my pained silence or the weight of my inner turmoil.
I felt lost,
like a traveller unable to find the guiding lights to their destination.
I felt numb,
like a hollow shell of myself.
I felt empty,
like a crucial piece of myself was missing.
But in books, I found a quiet escape-
a companion in loneliness,
a refuge from hardship,
a reflection of my inner world.
Even before the silence grew, I had always read.
As a child, books were my secret garden-
I devoured them one after another, wide-eyed and hungry.
Stories were my sanctuary.
Books-
woven with limitless creativity ,
worlds beyond imagination,
poems reflecting a writer’s soul.
My silent source of joy.
They never asked me for anything,
never pried with unwanted questions,
never demanded answers.
In every book, I found fragments of literature.
Every story, every word,
was simply literature,
existing beside me—
not to fix, but to share itself.
The inability to express myself.
Loneliness that lingered, even in a crowd.
An unexplainable hollowness—
numb, cold, gnawing at my conscience.
Depersonalisation followed.
These were things I struggled with,
that ate at me,
day by day,
piece by piece.
Then, quietly, I laid my hands on a particular book.
“I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki.”
A strange title—absurd, but brutally honest.
It didn’t offer answers. It didn’t heal me.
Instead it sat beside me and patiently listened.
Within those pages, I found someone who spoke the words I never could.
It was not a grand story.
There were no dragons, no distant planets,
no tragic lovers in war-torn cities.
Just one woman, speaking to her therapist.
The true journey itself wasn’t into the book,
but to somewhere far scarier-
inside my mind.
Yet through her vulnerability,
I began to understand mine.
I remember it vividly.
As I read the first few pages,
a lump formed in my throat
and I was hit with a wave of uncertain familiarity.
What an awful feeling it was.
And then before, I even realised it, tears threatened to drop.
Mind you- it was only the end of chapter 2.
That was how much impact it had on me already.
Barely a quarter into the book
and yet-
there I was,
resisting the urge to let tears spill.
"There is nothing wrong with being vulnerable. Being honest with yourself and with others is one of the strongest things you can do."
This quote grabbed my heart.
I’ve never been deeply self-conscious,
but I have wondered if I was overdramatic,
if I exaggerated my feelings,
or convinced myself I shouldn’t be upset—
after all, others have it worse.
That mindset led to a personal, harmful mantra
“Move on and cope with it.”
In simpler terms, it translates to:
“Your struggles and emotions are too insignificant compared to others. Stop worrying about such small matters
and move on with your life-
you could have it way worse like some other people.”
Unbeknownst to me,
this personal mantra was merely a form of a coping mechanism-
a way to snuff out the significance of my own struggles,
to avoid emotional confrontation with my conflicted inner self.
It wasn’t the acceptance of one’s inner feelings,
it was a rejection in the face of self-doubt-
a mask formed under the weight of
overwhelming hardship.
As I continued reading through
“I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki.”
with an already aching heart,
another quote struck me deeply.
“When you’re having a hard time, it’s natural to feel like you’re having the hardest time in the world. And it’s not selfish to feel that way.”
Then I realised, I didn’t feel conflicted hearing that.
Why?
Because it simply made me human.
Humans- we have feelings. We can feel complex emotions, some we can’t understand ourselves- others, we may refuse to accept.
And that’s okay. It’s part of the human experience.
We may not understand how we feel immediately, but that's not as important.
What’s more important is the ability to accept one’s true feelings, to validate even the negative emotions that we feel and to be true to ourselves.
For so long, I’ve been negligent of my own vulnerability. I’ve told myself that my struggles were nothing, that there was always someone out there who had it worse. I had this ingrained belief that being "strong” meant bottling up my emotions, ignoring the discomfort, and pretending everything was fine.
But this quote shattered that notion.
It made me realise how pointless it is to compare one’s feelings to others.
In the end, comparison doesn’t justify invalidating my own struggles-
just as how others shouldn’t invalidate theirs.
Everyone is fighting their own silent battles.
What truly matters is the process of self acceptance healing.
Everyone’s struggles are unique, no two are the same.
I wasn’t a failure for feeling the inner hollowness and conflict I experienced.
I was a failure for denying the truth of my emotions and
slowly bottling them up into an impending storm.
At that moment, I felt at ease.
A heavy burden of guilt and self- rejection lifted off my shoulders.
I saw myself not as a weak person for feeling overwhelmed,
but simply as a human.
It's okay to not be okay.
It’s okay to be vulnerable.
It’s okay to not have your emotions sorted out yet.
Reading Baek Sehee’s book was like watching a version of myself-
trapped in a locked room.
It didn’t help unlock the door,
but it taught me how to reach for the key.
What struck me the most was how Baek Sehee didn’t sugarcoat anything.
Instead she wrote about her vulnerability,
raw and unfiltered, honest.
There was no pretend optimism,
no forced positivity, no facades.
Not in the ink on the pages, not in the words she wrote,
and most certainly not in the title.
The title was the sole reason I laid my hands on this book.
“I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki.”
On the surface, it seems bizarre and comedic.
But it's not.
At Baek Sohee’s lowest, she still craved her comfort food.
And that says everything.
That even small little joys can be a flicker of light in the darkness.
Not out of miracles or false hope,
but simply choosing to stay-
for one more page,
one more laugh,
one more quiet joy.
For her, Tteokbokki was her flicker of light.
This book is neither a guide nor a manual to healing one of their sorrows.
Rather, it is a mirror to those sorrows.
No promises of any cures- just a promise to sit down and listen.
A book that makes you feel as though you’re reading the reflection of the deepest, darkest parts of your heart and mind, long hidden away.
The kind of book that pierces your fragile heart with glass pieces,
one by one.
Like a forceful storm stirring your insides,
leaving you in the aftermath,
your emotions spilling out like a bottle knocked over.
This was the book that gave me the hug I yearned for.
The book that helped me untangle my complex feelings.
A book I could truly relate to.
Literature is not just a powerful tool.
It is a weapon of mass transformation.
From stories like J.R.R. Tolkien’s “Lord Of The Rings” trilogy
that transport readers into other worlds,
to charismatic speeches such as Martin Luther King Jr.’s
“I Have A Dream”
that ignite movements against unchallenged injustice,
to poems and plays like Shakespeare’s famous tragedy “Romeo and Juliet”,
which invoke the raw emotions of ill-fated, star-crossed lovers,
to profound writings like Franz Kafka’s
“The Metamorphosis”
that compel us to look at situations from entirely new perspectives and confront unsettling philosophical dilemmas
we never imagined—literature is an all-seeing force.
Just as Her Majesty Queen Camilla said,
“"Human beings have always needed the connection of literature – its wisdom as well as its sheer escapism.”
The dual nature of literature is what makes it so beautiful and enduring.
On one hand, it offers a gateway away from the loudness of the outside world, transporting us into fantastical realms and providing comfort from reality’s pressures. It fulfills our wildest dreams and childhood wonders, allowing our souls to rest in the quiet, calming fields we long for.
Yet literature’s value goes beyond escapism; it is also a profound source of wisdom and truth. Through complex characters and moral dilemmas, literature acts as a mirror, guiding us toward deeper self-understanding.
It invites us to explore our identities and values, broadens our perspectives, and fosters empathy for others.
As John Green said,
“Great books help you understand, and they help you feel understood.”
This is exactly what
“I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki” did for me.
I’m thankful the title caught my eye that fateful day.
Because it helped me find myself in a dark time.
It made me realise: I’m simply human.
Beneath the peel: A banana tree’s story
By Trisha
Always the one giving
But never getting anything in return
Beneath the peel, lies the story.
There it started
Lying as a single seed in the middle of my community
Helpless, waiting to be watered,
Grown
And loved.
I tucked it into the ground
Like nature’s forgotten whisper.
Thirty days passed
Nothingness.
Oh why
Why couldn’t I see a change?
Had I done something wrong..
After all, humans always err.
A soothing drop on my cheek.
I looked up to catch a glimpse of the calm drizzles
It then hit me:
Climate.
Engulfed in selfishness,
My head hung low.
We were quenched
And yet,
We always forget to pay it forward.
The air thickened with warmth
I had to nurture the silent traveler’s every need
Everyday, I would sit and stare
Waiting for the moment it rises
Each step, a promise of purpose.
As the days flew,
So did my belief
Hidden in a room that functions daily
Was my complete lack of trust
Was it worth waiting?
Hope left me
Pointless.
We portray ourselves as sincere ones
For absolutely nothing.
When in the end,
All of us are deceiving creatures.
Drowning in the dark,
I left it
My thoughts got the worst of me
I let my mind take over my heart again.
1095 days later..
The place i called home
And pounded at for hours
Had that giant tree filled with bananas
The red in my veins
Ice cold.
Why did I give up?
She wanted to grow.
To live, for others…
Her essence filled their emptiness
Though their hands were covered with not hard work
But just the peel
Something in me struggled to escape.
Fury or?
Regret.
The price of losing her
Cost me alot
Had i been more patient
I would be etched in her memory
Memories of our growth together.
How could she be so selfless?
They were taking her art away.
She grew and fought through every season
Alone.
Yet she still showed no fear
She gave
And they took
Not just her creation but her as well
For granted.
Despite our years of separation,
Her journey still teaches
Strength.
Pure.
Love.
If you really had love,
You would not leave.
She did not leave them
But I left her
I didn’t love her enough.
Where had the years gone?
The times where I was feeding you.
You can’t say I did nothing.
I played a role in what you have become.
I wish these were true enough to scream at her.
Can I time travel and make things right?
Will this all be a dream?
Is this happening?
So many questions with no answers.
We realise the true worth of small items
Only once its out of our hand
Then why let go?
Living taught me that
You only live once
But living that one life
Taught me to live wisely
As they always say,
True happiness never lasts for long.
In the name of building homes
They demolished the beauty of nature.
Our kind are ruined
They give us life
We give them axes in return
Ungrateful.
The remains of it,
Contained my heart.
Not a soul said no
Instead they took off
To find another prey.
All stories should have a happy ending.
Why make one which ends badly?
This isn’t a story.
They who build our homes,
Are slowly killing the world.
They who keep taking
Fail to even throw away what they took respectfully.
They throw their oxygen away
But not their peels?
Why do we throw the useful.
On the ground, lies the peel but
Beneath the peel, lies the story.
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