21/06/2026

REPORTING THE WEIRD, THE EERIE & THE UNEXPLAINED BOO! BEYOND AND

theSunday Special XII ON SUNDAY JUNE 21, 2026

Of birds, beasts and belief

I F an owl hoots outside your window tonight, Malay tradition has a warning – do not ignore it. The owl, burung hantu, translates literally as “ghost bird”. Its call near a home at night has long been regarded as an omen that someone inside or close by may soon die. Crows carry a similarly sombre reputation in both Malay and Chinese folklore, in which their presence is often associated with misfortune, illness or death. Yet the same bird can mean something entirely different elsewhere. Offerings to ancestors In many Indian Hindu households, crows are welcomed rather than feared during memorial rituals. Food is offered as part of ceremonies honouring the dead. If the crow refuses to eat, it is seen as a troubling sign, suggesting the ancestors are displeased. It is a reminder that meaning is not fixed in nature but shaped by belief. Ű BY HASHINI KAVISHTRI KANNAN booandbeyond.thesun@gmail.com

Across Malay, Chinese and Indian traditions, animals carry layered meanings shaped by faith, folklore and generations of cultural doctrines

which it is revered as sacred. Devout families commonly avoid beef while products such as milk and ghee continue to play important roles in religious observances and purification rituals, underscoring the special status of the animal. Fortune and caution In Chinese mythology, turtles represent longevity and endurance. Yet some traditional beliefs caution against keeping them as business mascots, as their slow and steady nature is thought to symbolically translate into sluggish fortunes. It is a reminder of how symbolism can quietly shape everyday choices. Small signs, lasting stories Lizards round off the list as quiet but persistent messengers in parts of Indian and broader Asian folklore. A lizard falling on someone, or making a sound at a particular moment, may be interpreted as an omen related to whatever is about to happen. Countless families have their own variations on exactly what each sign means, proving that even the smallest creatures can inspire elaborate traditions. Reading the natural world The next time an owl calls in the dark, a gecko stirs on the ceiling or a snake appears in a garden, the reaction may not be purely instinctive. Within Malaysia’s diverse traditions, animals have long carried stories – of warning and worship, luck and loss, reverence and restraint. In them, people have found ways to make sense of the unseen world, and their place within it.

inauspicious sign that could cast a shadow over the year ahead, encouraging families to begin the new year with harmony and positive symbolism. Affection and reverence Not every animal carries ominous associations. Cats, for instance, occupy a more complex space in belief systems shaped by region and tradition. In some Indian folk beliefs, a cat crossing one’s path before setting out is sometimes seen as a sign of caution or delay, while black cats are occasionally associated with superstition, although interpretations vary widely across communities. In Malay-Islamic tradition, cats are widely regarded with affection, partly linked to the Prophet Muhammad’s well-known fondness for them. They are commonly welcomed around homes and mosques, while feeding strays is seen as an act of kindness. Chinese culture adds another layer through the familiar Fortune Cat figurines that sit on shop counters as symbols of prosperity and goodwill. Boundaries and belief Dogs occupy a different space in Islamic practice. Considered ritually unclean in certain contexts, especially when wet, contact may require cleansing known as sertu . As a result, many traditional Malay households have historically avoided keeping dogs indoors, a reflection of religious practice rather than hostility. Sacred presence The cow stands at almost the opposite end of the spectrum in many Hindu households, in

Guardians in another form Snakes receive one of the most fascinating interpretations in some Chinese traditions. If one is found inside the home, the preferred response is often to avoid harming it and instead encourage it to leave peacefully. The belief holds that such a snake may represent a household guardian or even an ancestral spirit, and injuring it could invite misfortune. It turns what might otherwise be a frightening encounter into one handled with unexpected care and restraint. Respect in the wild The jungle comes with its own

unwritten code. In Malay tradition, mocking, taunting or provoking wild animals is considered taboo, with some believing it could invite bad luck or offend unseen spirits believed to inhabit the forest. Experienced guides often encourage visitors to behave respectfully in the wilderness, where humility is seen as part of staying safe. Ritual and restraint Then there is Chinese New Year, when traditional beliefs discourage the slaughter of animals during the opening days of the celebration. The presence of blood is viewed by some as an

A black cat, an animal long associated with shifting interpretations of luck, superstition and everyday life. – SYED AZAHAR SYED OSMAN /THESUN

Jangan Tegur Ű BY MIMI SYED YUSOF booandbeyond.thesun@gmail.com IF there is one phrase that unites Malaysians across race, religion and postcode, it is not: “Have you eaten?” or “Traffic jam ah?” It is this: “Jangan tegur” . Simply put, it means don’t acknowledge. Don’t ask questions. Just carry on your merry way as though the woman combing her hair by the roadside at 2am is a perfectly normal feature of Malaysian life. The phrase itself seems harmless. It carries the gentle firmness of an elder reminding the young not to play outside at dusk or to always sit down while eating or drinking. Grabbing a bite while standing? Definitely a no-no. Jangan tegur is most often heard before jungle treks or mountain hikes. You and your family could be halfway up a trail when your uncle suddenly lowers his voice and says: “If you hear someone calling your name, jangan tegur .” Just keep walking.

neither do we want to be the idiot who decides to test the theory. This is not uniquely Malaysian, of course. In Japan, folklore warns against responding to mysterious voices in the woods. Irish tradition advises caution around the fairy folk, whose charm often precedes catastrophe. In parts of Latin America, children grow up hearing tales of La Llorona, the weeping woman whose cries should absolutely not be investigated. There is wisdom in the phrase. Jangan tegur is not necessarily about ghosts. It is about humility, about recognising that not everything demands an explanation or a commentary. Sometimes, the wisest response to the inexplicable is not confrontation but simply silence. Whether you believe in spirits or not, one truth remains. Jangan tegur is one of those pieces of inherited wisdom that has survived generations precisely because it cannot be disproved. It is a cultural heirloom. It is not

Somewhere along the line, Malaysians seem to have collectively agreed that the supernatural operates rather like telemarketing. If you respond, you are inviting trouble. The beauty of jangan tegur is that it usually arrives after you have already seen something alarming – a child standing alone in a plantation at midnight, or a woman with long, sleek black hair silently crossing your path. Among Malays, the phrase functions almost like an operating manual for navigating the unexplained. If someone calls your name three times at night, don’t answer. If there is a knock on the door after midnight, peek through the window curtains first. And if you smell the scent of flowers in the middle of nowhere... well, you’ve entered a third dimension and it’s wise to just mind your own business. Why? Because science and superstition coexist remarkably well in Malaysia. We may not necessarily believe every story but

Jangan tegur , the quiet rule that shapes how Malaysians navigate the unexplained. – AI GENERATED IMAGE

and perhaps most importantly, the elders who insist that being alive tomorrow is far more important than being right tonight. So, if you find yourself driving down a lonely stretch of road one night and you see something strange, whatever it may be, jangan tegur. Just keep driving.

about fear of the unseen, nor about winning an argument with a grandmother who has survived seven decades, raised six children, lived through floods and kampung ghost stories, and still lowers her voice before saying jangan tegur . Rather, it is about respect for places older than ourselves, mysteries we do not understand