28/04/2026

TUESDAY | APR 28, 2026

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Sun in the morning, flood by lunch O H, Malaysian weather, And when it rains in Malaysia, honey, it does not drizzle. It does not do a polite little British sprinkle, where you tilt your umbrella slightly and carry on. No, no, no. Malaysian rain arrives like a

Malaysian weather – where do we even begin with you? You dramatic, unhinged and absolutely unrepentant little gremlin of an atmosphere. Let’s set the scene, shall we? T

lempang you didn’t see coming – sudden, full-force and deeply personal. It is a DELUGE. It is a curtain of water so thick you can barely see the car in front of you. It is your mother’s disappointment but in liquid form, falling from the sky at 200mm per hour. Within 15 minutes, the roads – the very same roads you were confidently driving on not half an hour ago – are now rivers. Actual rivers. Waze is having an existential crisis. The uncle in the Proton Perdana ahead of you has somehow driven into a flood that reaches his door handles, looking absolutely betrayed by life itself. The motorcyclists have collectively ascended to the five-foot way. Someone’s plastic chair from their mamak stall is floating serenely past, like it is on a leisurely gondola ride through Venice. Flash floods, they call it. Flash floods. As if it’s a surprise. As if this hasn’t been happening every single monsoon season since before any of us were born. We are SHOCKED, every single time, like we didn’t just go through this last Tuesday and the Tuesday before that and the Tuesday of every year going back to 1998. For this makcik whose office is located on the 4th floor, we are completely bone dry, sipping our kopi sejuk , peering down from the window at the watery carnage below, with the serene detachment of women who have already seen everything life has to offer and remain unimpressed. One of us has just reheated her nasi bekal . Another is touching up her lipstick. They are unbothered. They are THRIVING. And someone – from that very same 4th floor – has still sent a reminder email about the 3pm meeting – in this economy, in this flood. The audacity is simply immeasurable. But here’s the truly unhinged part – the bit that makes Malaysian weather genuinely iconic in its own chaotic way: M A K C I K A B A S

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It’s 11 in the morning. The sun – bless her unhinged soul – is absolutely going off. We are talking 35°C of pure, unapologetic audacity, beaming down like she has a personal vendetta against your deodorant and every single life choice you have ever made. M A

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You can literally fry a telur mata on the bonnet of a Myvi – not even a fancy car, a Myvi! That is how committed this heat is. You step outside and immediately your body goes, “Excuse me, are we being slow-cooked?” Yes, darling, we are. Welcome to Malaysia, where the air itself is basically a warm, wet blanket someone left in a sauna, then wrapped around your entire existence. Humidity at 90%? Oh that’s just Tuesday. Your baju is sticking to your back before you have even reached the gate. Your foundation has given up, packed its bags and relocated somewhere south of your chin. Your hair? It has made its own decisions – and none of them involve you. And then – oh, and THEN – you have the absolute nerve to think, “ Aiyah , it’s so hot, must be a nice sunny day- lah ”. You dare. You DARE make plans – a picnic, maybe. A trip to Masjid India. Parking your car confidently, without a care in the world, on some road in Chow Kit. Because you know what Malaysian weather heard when you made those plans? A challenge. Within 20 minutes – 20 – the sky, which was previously a cheerful shade of blinding blue, has transformed into something that looks like God accidentally spilled His kopi from the heavens and decided, you know what, let’s just commit. The clouds roll in like a group of makciks who just heard gossip – fast, loud and absolutely ready to create chaos.

Welcome to Malaysia, where the air itself is basically a warm, wet blanket someone left in a sauna, then wrapped around your entire existence. – SUNPIC

not explaining it to outsiders. At the end of the day, this weather – this absolutely ridiculous, chaotic and zero-chill weather – is ours. It is as Malaysian as nasi lemak at 2am and arguing about which state has the best rendang . It is exhausting and dramatic and completely devoid of any sense of moderation. Much like us, honestly. So here’s to you, Malaysian weather – you absolute menace, you unhinged queen. You are like a makcik who shows up uninvited, causes maximum disruption, refuses to apologise and leaves before anyone can say anything. We love you, we resent you and we are completely dependent on you. Now, can you please not flood Jalan Duta again this Friday? Got wedding to attend- lah . Azura Abas is the executive editor of theSun. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com

by 4pm? Cleared up. The sun’s back out, steaming hot again. The roads are drying, the uncle has retrieved his car, the plastic chair has returned to the mamak stall, birds are chirping – and someone somewhere is already complaining it’s too hot again. Malaysian weather doesn’t do aftermath. There is no grieving period; it simply resets, like a badly behaved child who screams the house down and then immediately asks for ice cream with zero acknowledgement of what just transpired. And we – we just accept it. We keep a spare baju in the office, we carry umbrellas like they are a fifth limb and we look at the sky before leaving any building, the way our ancestors once read omens. We have developed a “Spidey” sense for when the clouds are “that kind” of dark versus regular dark. We know the difference and we are

“At the end of the day, this weather – this absolutely ridiculous, chaotic and zero-chill weather – is ours. It is as Malaysian as nasi lemak at 2am and arguing about which state has the best rendang.