When a Spanish Song Took Over My TikTok

KUALA LUMPUR, Oct 28, 2025: I’m honestly overwhelmed by the amazing response to my video featuring Amira Syahira’s latest song, No Toques Mi Corazon.

For a Malaysian to compose and perform a song entirely in Spanish — that’s no small feat. What a talent!

As of 1 p.m. on Tuesday, Oct 28, my video has hit 100,000 views — a personal record — with 4,600 likes.

I can’t believe it! Looks like I’m catching a little wave of TikTok fame myself, thanks to this beautifully captivating Spanish song.

The comments have been pouring in, and I’m honestly so touched. Some fans have even reposted my video, while others have turned Amira’s song into their ringtone. And yes, I’ve joined the fun too — No Toques Mi Corazon is now my ringtone!

What amazes me most is how far this “Spanish fever” has spread. I’ve seen groups using her song for exercise routines, sharing their videos with so much energy and joy. A few TikTokers even tried lip-syncing or singing the song themselves. It’s like the whole world’s dancing to the same beat!

I also found out that Amira has been polishing her Spanish with her Latin fans and friends — she even has a WhatsApp group with them! No wonder her pronunciation sounds so natural. One fan commented that her Spanish sounded just like a native speaker’s — and I couldn’t agree more.

Of course, there are always skeptics. Some Malaysians insisted that it couldn’t be her, that it must be AI. But come on — if it were AI, would her song really reach #18 on iTunes Malaysia? That’s pure talent, not technology.

A Little About Amira Syahira

Nur Amira Syahira Azizul Abidin, born on April 25, 2003, in Penang, is a talented drummer, musician, host, singer, and actress. She’s now making her mark on the international stage, especially through her achievements in the Hit Like A Girl Contest and her growing YouTube following.

What’s truly inspiring is how she started. Amira began playing drums at just eight years old — completely self-taught. She learned everything online, watching tutorials on YouT

ube without a teacher or formal music lessons.

From there, she began recording drum covers and sharing them online, picking up techniques from some of the best drummers around the world.

And now, years later, she’s evolved from a little girl with a drum kit to a confident young artiste breaking language and cultural barriers with her Spanish single, No Toques Mi Corazon.

Reflections

Every time I listen to this song, I feel a quiet sense of pride. Watching a Malaysian artiste like Amira push boundaries and captivate the world — it reminds me that passion knows no language.

As I scroll through the countless comments and videos inspired by her song, I realise that creativity connects us in ways we never expect.

Maybe that’s the magic of music — it speaks directly to the heart, no matter where you come from or what language you speak. ❤

Of Love, Loss, and a Cat Named Oyen

After losing so much, I found companionship in the gentlest soul — and he never once left my side.

KUALA LUMPUR, Oct 26, 2025: I’ve never really considered myself an active TikToker — I don’t go on Live, and I’m not chasing trends or fame. But I do enjoy creating little videos of my everyday life — my makan-makan outings with friends and family, and the beautiful places I’ve travelled to. My favourite clips are always about food — those irresistible dishes that make each trip memorable.

Recently, I reached the 1K follower mark since my first post in September 2024. I’m not sure if that’s something to be proud of, as it’s been a slow, steady climb — perhaps because I post for joy, not for numbers. For me, TikTok feels more like a personal diary — a space to capture memories that matter.

Among my videos are photos of my late siblings — all of whom have passed on. I was the third in a family of five, and now I’m the only one left. Maybe that’s why companionship feels even more precious these days.

And that brings me to Oyen.

It’s been almost three years since Oyen came into my life. He was only four months old when my former part-time maid brought him over, knowing how much I missed my previous cat, Putih — a beautiful

white Persian who passed away at the age of ten due to health complications.

From the moment Oyen arrived, he brought warmth and laughter back into my home. With his thick golden-brown fur, hazel eyes, short chubby legs, and long tail, Oyen is truly one of a kind. He’s friendly with my guests, playful when in the mood, and adorably grumpy during his nap times.

Earlier this year, one of my TikTok videos of Oyen unexpectedly went viral — over 14.1K views! It was a lovely surprise and a reminder of how many cat lovers out there share the same affection and joy these furry friends bring.

Oyen is an indoor cat and was neutered shortly after I adopted him. Besides caring for him, I also feed stray and neighbourhood cats twice a day — and lately, two little kittens that have found shelter behind my house. I sometimes feel sorry that Oyen can’t join them outdoors, but for health reasons — and on my vet’s advice — he must stay inside, as he’s prone to flea allergies.

Still, Oyen never lets me feel alone. Every evening, he waits by the door when I return home — his eyes lighting up as if to say, “Welcome back.” In his quiet way, he fills my days with warmth and companionship.

Oyen isn’t just my pet — he’s family, my loyal companion, and truly, my best friend.

When Parents Become Strangers in Their Own Children’s Lives

Time may age their hands, but it should never fade our love.

KUALA LUMPUR, Oct 26, 2025: There’s an old story about a couple who carried their frail, bedridden father into the forest — not to seek peace for him, but to leave him behind.

They placed him gently in a basket, their hearts heavy with guilt. As they turned to leave, their young son asked if he could bring the basket home. When they asked why, he replied softly, “So that I can use it to carry you here when you grow old.”

Shaken by the child’s innocent words, the couple quickly brought their father back home.

That story may sound like something from a distant past, yet its message still echoes in our world today. We may no longer leave our parents in the forest, but many are being left behind in quieter, more modern ways — in old folks’ homes, far from the warmth of family and the laughter they once lived for.

We tell ourselves it’s for their comfort — that professionals can care for them better, that they’ll have company among their peers. But deep down, we know what they truly long for: not comfort or luxury, but closeness. The sound of familiar voices, the laughter of grandchildren, the warmth of being needed and remembered.

Many of these parents have spent a lifetime working, providing, and sacrificing so that their children could live better lives.

Now, in their twilight years, all they ask for is to spend their remaining days surrounded by the love they once gave so freely. Yet modern life often moves too fast — chasing success, comfort, and convenience — leaving little room for tenderness or time.

Sending them away may ease our schedules, but it silently erodes something sacred: the bond that once made us who we are. True care is not measured by how comfortable their beds are, but by how often they feel our presence beside them.

Perhaps it’s time we remember that love is not about ease; it’s about effort. Visiting often, listening with patience, holding their hands — these are simple acts that carry the weight of gratitude. Because one day, the roles will change, and we, too, will wait for footsteps that may or may not come home.

Before time takes them from our sight, let love bring us back to their side.

When Adventure Turns Tragic: Lessons from Gunung Liang

Because reaching the peak should never cost a life.

KUALA LUMPUR, Oct 25, 2025: The death of 34-year-old hiker Mustaqqeem Mansoor on Gunung Liang has left a deep mark on Malaysia’s hiking community. What began as an adventure turned into tragedy — and a national conversation about safety, empathy, and shared responsibility in the outdoors.

Reports said Mustaqqeem, an experienced climber, suffered muscle cramps and later died of hypothermia during a multi-day trek from Bukit Fraser, Pahang, to Gunung Liang, Perak.

His death sparked anger among the public, with many blaming the guides for not doing enough, and others questioning the group’s decision-making. His companions later denied abandoning him, saying they climbed back up to search when they realised he was missing.

Safety Must Be More Than a Checklist

The authorities — from the Forestry Department to mountain guide associations — must take this as a wake-up call. Outdoor safety can’t depend on luck or experience alone.

• Each expedition should have mandatory safety briefings.

• Emergency protocols and check-ins must be made clear.

• All registered guides should receive proper training in first aid, weather assessment, and crisis management.

Safety isn’t about bureaucracy — it’s about ensuring that every climber who starts a journey also makes it home.

Guides Are Leaders, Not Just Navigators

The suspension of the two guides involved should not just be punitive but educational. It’s time to review the ethics and standards of mountain guiding in Malaysia. Being a guide means more than knowing the trail — it means understanding people, reading distress, and leading with empathy.

Empathy in the Wild

Too often, hikers are driven by the thrill of reaching the peak. But adventure is never a race. The true spirit of hiking lies in shared humanity — in waiting for the slowest, helping the injured, and valuing safety over pride.

The mountain doesn’t care who reaches first; what matters is that everyone returns together.

Learning from Loss

Mustaqqeem’s story should remind us that nature commands respect — not conquest. Perhaps this tragedy can spark a culture shift, where outdoor adventure is paired with preparation, compassion, and humility.

Because no summit, no photo, and no achievement is worth more than a life.

The mountain teaches us many things — but above all, it reminds us that the greatest climb is learning to care for one another.

When Does Good Manners Begin?

What a viral wedding video says about modern parenting.

KUALA LUMPUR, Oct 25, 2025: At what age should manners and etiquette be taught to children?

It’s a question that lingers in my mind every time I witness scenes of kids running wild in public places — at restaurants, malls, even at friends’ homes — while parents look on as if such behaviour is normal or harmless.

But should it be?

Earlier this year, a viral incident reminded us how early lessons in manners can (and should) begin.

When Play Turns Into Chaos

In April, a video circulated on social media showing a child accidentally knocking down an entire wedding dais (pelamin) during a ceremony, leaving the bride visibly upset.

What made the story worse was that the child’s mother later turned the moment into a joke on TikTok — laughing it off instead of treating it as a learning moment.

In her explanation, the mother said she hadn’t expected her child to act that way. She was taking photos of the bride when her child ran onto the stage to play with friends. One of them sat on a sofa, and in the next moment, the sofa — and the entire backdrop — came crashing down.

More Than Just a Mishap

Yes, accidents happen. Children are naturally curious and energetic. But there’s a fine line between innocent play and disruptive behaviour — especially in public or formal settings.

Teaching manners isn’t about scolding or strict control; it’s about helping children understand boundaries, empathy, and respect for others’ spaces. These are lessons that should start as early as two or three years old, long before school begins.

Simple habits — saying “thank you,” waiting one’s turn, not interrupting adults, keeping voices low in public, and respecting other people’s belongings — form the foundation of good character.

And these lessons begin not in classrooms, but at home.

Children Reflect Their Parents

When a child misbehaves, it’s often a reflection not of bad intent, but of what they’ve been taught — or not taught. As parents or adults, how we respond matters. Laughing off bad behaviour teaches children that their actions carry no consequences.

Correcting them gently, explaining why something is wrong, and modelling good behaviour ourselves teach far more lasting lessons.

Respect, empathy, and self-awareness don’t grow overnight — they are nurtured, little by little, every day.

A Gentle Reminder

So the next time your child plays a little too roughly, speaks out of turn, or runs wild at someone else’s event — pause and guide them. Because manners aren’t about perfection; they’re about awareness.

And awareness begins the moment a child starts to understand the world — which is much earlier than most of us think.

Should UPSR and PT3 Make a Comeback?

As talk grows about bringing back UPSR and PT3, I can’t help but wonder — are we really missing the exams, or the sense of direction and discipline they once gave our children?

KUALA LUMPUR, Oct 24, 2025 — Calls to reinstate UPSR and PT3 reveal more than nostalgia for exam-based learning — they reflect a growing unease about where our education system is heading.

Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia Centre of Education and Diversity senior lecturer Dr Anuar Ahmad believes that bringing back the Ujian Pencapaian Sekolah Rendah (UPSR) and the Pentaksiran Tingkatan Tiga (PT3) could help restore balance to the national education system.

He said that after seven years, the implementation of the classroom-based assessment (PBD) has not been as successful as hoped.

“My support for the return of UPSR and PT3 is not because centralised exams are the best assessment method. It is because I can no longer rely on the unclear direction and effectiveness of PBD implementation,” he was quoted as saying recently.

Anuar’s remarks echo what many parents and teachers quietly feel: that classroom-based assessment, though well-intentioned, hasn’t yet delivered the consistency or confidence it promised.

Exams were never perfect, but they provided structure, accountability, and a shared sense of progress. Without them, some believe we’ve lost the discipline and direction that once guided both students and schools.

Still, the debate shouldn’t just be about bringing back exams. The rise in school violence and behavioural issues points to something deeper — a loss of values, empathy, and engagement. Education reform should not only measure knowledge but nurture character.

Perhaps the goal isn’t to bring back old exams, but to bring back what they once stood for — effort, focus, and a shared journey toward something better.

When Kindness Fades, Cruelty Finds a Way In

As stories of school bullying continue to surface, the tragedy of Zara Qairina reminds us that behind every act of cruelty lies a deeper wound — and that healing must begin with empathy, both at home and in school.

KUALA LUMPUR, Oct 24, 2025: Zara Qairina’s story broke many hearts — a young girl with dreams, gone too soon.

Her death didn’t just spark outrage; it forced us to confront a painful truth about what’s happening in our schools and, perhaps, in our homes.

Bullying doesn’t happen in isolation. It grows quietly in environments where empathy is not taught, where discipline feels outdated, and where being cruel can sometimes seem easier than being kind.

When children don’t feel heard, loved, or guided, they can end up inflicting the same hurt they carry inside.

Maybe that’s what we’re really seeing — not just bullies, but brokenness.

In today’s world, where social media rewards attention over empathy, young people often confuse power with popularity. And when adults look away or dismiss signs of cruelty as “kids being kids,” the cycle continues.

What schools need now isn’t just stricter rules or viral campaigns. They need space for conversations about feelings, respect, and boundaries.

Teachers need the time and tools to notice quiet suffering. Parents need to ask, not just how their children are doing in exams, but how they are doing inside.

Because healing starts at home, and compassion begins with example.

If we want to stop bullying, we must teach our children — by words and by action — that strength is never about making others small.

The government’s recent push for safer schools, including proposals like restricting smartphone use, is a step forward. But true change won’t come from policy alone — it will come when every parent, teacher, and student chooses empathy over apathy.