03/07/2025

THURSDAY | JULY 3, 2025

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H AVE you ever said something in the heat of the moment and later thought, “why did I do that, it is not like me at all”? Most of us have – whether it is snapping unexpectedly, shutting down when we wanted to speak up or feeling deeply hurt by a seemingly harmless comment. It often feels like someone else took over – a different version of ourselves. And in many ways, that is exactly what happened. We are not singular, fixed beings. We carry within us multiple “selves” – inner personalities shaped by past experiences, roles we have had to play and strategies we have developed to survive. There may be a part of us that is confident and capable while another that feels anxious in moments of tension, and others that may show up as the perfectionist, the avoider or the over-reactor. These parts are not dysfunctional – they are normal. In psychology, this concept is reflected in models like internal family systems, which describe the mind as having multiple parts, with each serving a protective purpose. These parts emerge to help us cope, often from a younger or more vulnerable time in our lives. When something triggers us – a tone of voice, a glance, a word, a subtle shift in body language or even an action that reminds us of a past hurt – it may activate not just an emotional response but a stored memory. Sometimes, it is not even the action itself but the energy of a person or the environment we are in. Certain people can trigger discomfort simply because something about them – how they speak, behave or move – resonates with an old experience we have not yet resolved. Neurologically, this is partly due to AS a mother, a human resource professional of over two decades and an Indian woman who has journeyed through corporate Malaysia and grassroots community work, I write this with a heavy heart. The passing of Tan Sri Dr M. Thambirajah has left a void so profound, I ask myself: “Who do we turn to now?” Growing up in Malaysia, especially as part of the Indian community, meant growing up hearing his name spoken with reverence, admiration and a sense of safety. His presence was constant in books, on stages, in community halls, and most importantly, in the hearts of every parent who dreamt bigger dreams for their children. His message was clear, unwavering and urgent: “Education is the way forward.” For our community, education has never been a luxury. It is a battle against generational poverty, against discrimination, against the belief that we must settle for less. Dr Thambirajah understood this deeply and he chose not just to understand but to act. And that is the “Thambirajah Effect”. He did not just build the Sri Murugan Centre (SMC), he built hope. He created structure,

Understanding emotional triggers and regaining control

of the pressure to handle everything perfectly. Some emotions pass more easily when we stop gripping them so tightly. If a part of you showed up in a way you are not proud of, try not to push it away; name it, thank it for trying to protect you. Then, gently remind yourself that you get to choose who leads. You do not have to carry every reaction to the end. Some feelings are just visitors – they pass through when we give them space, not when we fight them. What is reassuring is that even in our most reactive moments, our calm, compassionate self – the one capable of thoughtful action – is still there. That part of us does not disappear; it simply gets quiet when other parts get loud. But with practice and patience, we can learn to let that core self guide us again. We cannot always control what triggers us but we can change how we respond. Often, it is not about becoming someone new; it is about making space for all that we are and choosing in each moment which part gets to lead. DrPraveena Rajendra is a certified mental health and awareness practitioner specialising in narcissistic abuse recovery. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com

of me is reacting? You don’t need to go into deep psychological excavation, just bringing gentle awareness to the reaction can help shift it. You will start to relate to the feeling rather than from it. Over time, this will build emotional regulation not by force but through connection. One practical way to do this is to change your language. Instead of saying, “I’m angry”, you can say, “A part of me feels angry”. This small shift will remind you that you are not your emotion but the one observing it. This will create a space between you and the part of you that is reacting, giving your wiser, calmer self a chance to respond more clearly. Another helpful tool is to journal after a strong emotional event. Write what happened, what you felt, what it reminded you of and who was involved. Over time, you may notice that certain patterns repeat themselves – not just with specific words or actions but with particular people or places. These are not coincidences; they are maps. And the more familiar you are with your inner terrain, the less likely you are to get lost in it. It is also important to remember that not every emotion needs to be fixed. Some just need to be acknowledged. One of the most liberating shifts we can make is letting go – not of the feeling itself but

This is why we feel deeply hurt or reactive in moments that, on the surface, may seem small. Our nervous system is responding to a past wound being poked – not just the present situation. That is why our reactions often do not make logical sense. The body does not always differentiate between then and now. A raised voice may remind you of being scolded as a child. Disapproval may tap into memories of rejection. A dismissive shrug or a passive aggressive smile may remind you of times you were not heard. Without realising it, an old version of you steps in – trying to protect, to defend, to make sense of pain that is already been felt before. And after the storm comes the guilt. Many of us, especially those trying to be self-aware or emotionally responsible, carry guilt for how we reacted. We regret the words, the tone and the silence. However, guilt, while natural, can become another layer of suppression. It can push us to silence or dismiss parts of ourselves that are trying to communicate something important. That is the paradox – what if the part of you that acted out was not trying to sabotage your growth but was trying to be heard? Instead of jumping into guilt, consider pausing and asking yourself: What am I really feeling right now? Does this remind me of something from before? Which part

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“We are not singular, fixed beings. We carry within us multiple ‘selves’ – inner

what is known as an amygdala hijack. The amygdala – the part of the brain responsible for detecting threats – can override our logical thinking when it perceives danger, even if that danger is symbolic or emotional rather than physical. personalities shaped by past experiences, roles we have had to play and strategies we have learned to survive.

Deadly gap on our LRT platforms

LETTERS letters@thesundaily.com

Tribute to education altruist Dr M. Thambirajah

EVERY time I take the LRT, I notice the same thing: no platform doors – just an open gap between passengers and the train tracks. It only takes one wrong step, one moment of distraction or one accidental push in a crowded station and that unguarded space can mean the difference between life and death. The sad reality is that most of us treat it like it is no big deal. We talk about how the authorities should do more – and they absolutely should. We need better infrastructure, we need platform screen doors and we need real, enforceable safety measures. But while we wait for these upgrades, people are still falling and people are still dying. Just a month ago, at the Pusat Bandar Puchong LRT station, an elderly man from Taiwan fell onto the tracks during rush hour. He stepped too close, lost his balance and was struck by an oncoming train. The entire line was disrupted – and just like that, a life was lost. It is terrifying to think that something so tragic happened in a place so familiar to all of us – a place we pass through every day without a second thought. We are told not to stand too close to the edge. That yellow line is not just there for decoration. Standing behind it, putting your phone away for a moment, holding someone back when the crowd surges – these are simple actions anyone can take. We do not need reminders. It starts with us: with paying attention, looking out for one another and taking simple, mindful steps to stay safe. Let’s not wait for another name to make the headlines. Let’s not wait until it is someone we know. Daninas Hezry City University Malaysia Cyberjaya

To fight for access to education, not handouts, but opportunities. To teach our children not just to chase success but to understand why education matters. To instil discipline, purpose and pride in the next generation just as he did. We must remind them that while degrees may open doors, values and vision are what keep those doors open. That respect, humility and resilience are not soft skills but the survival kit he gave us. As I write this, with tears in my eyes and pride swelling in my chest, I say: “Thank you, Tan Sri, for seeing us when others looked away, for helping us where others gave up and for showing us that ideas when paired with discipline and conviction can move generations. “You didn’t leave us in the dark; you left us in the warm, unwavering glow of your teachings. And as a mother, you have my promise that I will do my part. Your voice may be silent but your vision will still roar. “And in every child we lift, in every mother we comfort and in every student, we see you in their success. Rest in eternal peace, our guiding star. You will never be forgotten.” Mangalagowri Ramanathan

Dr Thambirajah did not just build SMC, he built hope.

come and see me.” Those words became my anchor. I held onto them through the toughest parenting moments. That promise kept me steady. But now that door no longer exists. That guiding light is gone and I am frozen in time, waiting for a moment that will never come. That promise, one I cherished with every fibre of my being, is now one I can no longer claim. I am heartbroken yet I know, even in this grief, that his mission was never about one child, one mother or one promise. His mission was for all of us. Now, it is ours to carry forward. To mothers like me, educators, HR professionals and community leaders – we owe it to him to make sure no Indian child is left behind.

discipline, values and most importantly, belief – belief in the children who had been counted out, belief in families who had almost given up and belief in us. I have seen it firsthand as an HR professional, interviewing thousands of candidates. Those who came from SMC or had been touched by his influence walked in with something different – clarity, humility and fire. They were respectful, prepared and purpose-driven. This is no coincidence; this is his legacy in motion. For me, this loss cuts deeper than legacy; it feels personal. In a quiet, emotional moment years ago, Prof told me: “Don’t worry, maa . He (my son) will do well. When the time comes,