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New Straits Times
4 days ago
- General
- New Straits Times
MONEY THOUGHTS: Wise and unwise delays
THE English poet Edward Young (1683-1765) penned these words in an almost 10,000-line poem Night-Thoughts, which he toiled on between 1742 and 1745: "Procrastination is the thief of time." Almost every serious student of the English language has come across Young's famous line, which is now a standalone adage for the life lesson that it's better to do important things straightaway than to delay acting on them. Why? Well, once we fritter away time, we can't get it back. How we manage our time — over the short-term, medium-term, and long-term — determines how our lives turn out. And speaking of life and time, I've been blessed with the singular opportunity to write this weekly Money Thoughts column for you in the New Sunday Times for a tad over 10 years now. With very, very few exceptions over the decade due to a rare shortage of available pages because of news-heavy developments or major public holidays that stopped the presses, from mid-2015 till today, it's been my privilege to regularly write for you. This column you're reading now in the physical NST 's Sunday Vibes section or online is my 500th. This half-a-thousand writing milestone is one I'm ecstatic about. And that's why I want to outline here for you four tension-laden lessons that are pertinent to personal success and accomplishment. They focus on procrastination and our predisposition to delay action: 1. Procrastination is usually bad; 2. Procrastinating is sometimes good; 3. Delays usually leave us worse off; 4. Yet delaying can sometimes be incredibly wise. ELABORATION 1. Procrastination is usually bad Four years after the poet Young completed his magnum opus, Night-Thoughts, the English writer, statesman and politician Philip Dormer Stanhope, the fourth Earl of Chesterfield, wrote this in a letter to his son: "Know the true value of time; snatch, seize, and enjoy every moment of it. No idleness, no laziness, no procrastination; never put off till tomorrow what you can do today." In our present work environment, the evaporation of millions of jobs caused by the intersection of artificial intelligence (AI type 1) and robotics is building momentum. As such, we must work harder and smarter than those around us to keep our jobs or grow our businesses. Part of the secret sauce that enables us to do more than others is NOT procrastinating. 2. Procrastinating is sometimes good Nonetheless, we must recognise that NOT everything which lands on our laps is worth doing. So, think about which tasks and activities you carry out at home and at work that are pointless. If you're like most people, me included, you'll be able to identify some of those lower posteriorities which should be dropped off your daily and weekly to-do lists to create "space" (and literal "time") in your calendar for vital higher priorities. As you eliminate some posteriorities, you'll give yourself permission to permanently procrastinate on things you should not be doing because they are not aligned with whatever you deem vital. 3. Delays usually leave us worse off Note: Even as we tread the fine line between avoiding and embracing Young's "thief of time", we should acknowledge the many times accepting delays in our lives turns out for the worse. Consider what occurs when we delay starting (and finishing) projects vital for career advancement, or avoid visiting the dentist for regular dental checkups or the doctor for annual physicals, or delay servicing our cars because we're too busy to find time for what Stephen Covey describes as "sharpening the saw" activities which aren't urgent yet are crucially important. All such delays land us in trouble and cause us to end up in worse shape than if we'd simply completed those important tasks at their right times. As another well-known English adage tells us: A stitch in time saves nine. 4. Yet delaying can sometimes be incredibly wise Finally, though, here are two special instances of beneficial delays: One of the key principles of personal financial success is delayed gratification. It always involves sacrifice, and often necessitates giving up something good for the potential payoff of something great down the road. Think about the wisdom of opting to buy a, shall we say, too-affordable car or smaller than warranted home so as to have more money to save and invest for the future — to augment our retirement nest egg. Another example of a wise delay is choosing to accept contract employment beyond the official retirement age — which is currently 60 in Malaysia — to be able to continue earning money for a longer period. Those who stay gainfully employed for longer enjoy two phenomenal linked benefits: a. They elevate their lifetime earnings, specifically their active income (AI type 2), which enriches themselves and their families, while elevating their lifestyles; and b. They shorten their non-earning years (or decades) in retirement, which markedly reduces the possibility they will run out of money in old age. Take time to decide if and when it would be wise to shun procrastination and delays, and when you should proactively embrace those same tendencies to intentionally improve your lot in life. © 2025 Rajen Devadason
New Straits Times
28-06-2025
- General
- New Straits Times
NST: More than a newspaper, a childhood cornerstone
In the tapestry of my childhood, Sundays held a special place — not just for rest or family gatherings, but for the much anticipated arrival of our newspaper vendor at our doorstep with copies of Tamil Nesan and the New Sunday Times. We were unique in our neighbourhood, the only family subscribing to both newspapers. While my mother and elder sister immersed themselves in Tamil Nesan, the rest of us eagerly turned to NST, our gateway to the English-speaking world. The reason behind this choice was simple yet profound: my parents believed deeply in the power of English. They were determined that all eight of us would read, write and speak English fluently. This was not merely about language, but an investment in our future, a bridge to opportunities in a rapidly modernising Malaysia. NST was their trusted partner in this mission, a daily school of life and language learning rolled into one. Sunday mornings were a ritual of sharing and discovery. The newspaper was carefully split among us, and I was usually the first to grab the Section 2 pullouts. This section was a treasure trove of features, vivid pictures, cinema listings and unusual stories that sparked my curiosity. This culture of sharing made the experience of reading NST unforgettable and deeply engaging. We often had a dictionary by our side, ready to decode the high-standard English crafted by polished writers and seasoned editors. NST was not just a newspaper; it was a shaper of our family's thoughts, a silent teacher that nurtured our command of language and broadened our understanding of the world. I still vividly recall an article explaining how a humble water glass could be melted and shaped into various forms, like an elegant vase. That seemingly simple read stayed with me; it even helped me answer a question in a science exam. It was a proud moment, made possible by the knowledge gleaned from NST. Another unforgettable memory was a special advertisement in NST promoting a paint brand. The newspaper edition that day was scented with the fragrance of strawberries that turned reading the paper into a sensory experience. Reading the Sunday paper was a shared family affair. After everyone had taken turns poring over the pages, the paper found new life in our home — my elder sisters used it as a protective layer for the kitchen cabinet surfaces, guarding against wear and tear. There were no plastic laminates back then, so the newspaper was a practical and cherished resource. We never threw the papers away: instead, they were passed on to the kacang puteh uncle or the nearby sundry shop, ensuring every sheet was reused and valued. Looking back, those Sunday mornings with NST were more than a weekly habit — they were a cornerstone of my upbringing. From the colourful features and intriguing stories to the fragrant advertisements and practical reuse, the paper wove itself into the fabric of our family life. It was a shared treasure that connected us, educated us and prepared us for the future. As the New Straits Times celebrates its 180th anniversary in July, I reflect with gratitude on how it was more than ink and paper to us. It was a family companion, a language mentor and a window to the world. Through its pages, my parents' vision of equipping their children with English skills came alive. The legacy of the New Straits Times is not only in its history, but in the countless homes like mine where it sparked curiosity, learning, and dreams.
The Star
27-06-2025
- General
- The Star
Heart And Soul: A daughter remembers her dad's love for language and newspapers
A daughter remembers her father's quiet strength – in newspapers, words and acts of care. — Photo: This visual is human-created, AI-aided. Do you have any real-life, heart-warming stories to share with readers? We'd love to hear from you. Please keep your story within 900 words. Photos are optional and should be in JPEG format (file size about 1MB, with caption and photo credit). There is no payment for stories, and we reserve the right to edit all submissions. Email your story to: heartandsoul@ with the subject "Heart and Soul". Something that reminds me of my father Rajentharan Subbiah even today? His love for newspapers. Every morning, without fail, he would read The Star – except on Sundays. Sundays were for the New Sunday Times. I never asked why he switched papers, and now I wish I had. What did that change mean to him? As a child, I watched him read and followed suit – not out of interest, but to imitate him. As an adult, I now keep my own online subscription to The Star. Even though I no longer live in Malaysia, starting my day with local news feels natural – a quiet echo of Appa (father). He revered the English language. He took great pride in his vocabulary. Sometimes, he'd quiz me on words – ones that popped into his head or came from books I was reading. If I got the meaning right, he wouldn't say much – not even smile at times – but he'd often place a gentle hand on my head or shoulder, and I would catch a flicker of pride in his eyes. Those moments meant the world to me. He lived for words. Many afternoons and bedtimes were filled with stories. He introduced me to Enid Blyton when I was six, and her books became the landscape of my childhood. His love for language is a legacy I still carry. I read. I write. I seek meaning in words because he gave me the gift of knowing their power – to hold grief, to offer love, to connect. It's been nine years since he left us. I'm still discovering the ways he shaped me. Appa also loved food – not with gourmet flair, but in the quiet way many fathers of his generation did. He believed meals brought people together. If we dined out with family, one thing was certain: he would never let anyone else pay. It wasn't ego – it was love. Providing was his language of care. And now, in many ways, it has become mine too. I know not all fathers are present, safe, or kind. Some grew up with distance, absence – even pain. So while I honour my father, I also honour that truth. Because being a father isn't just biology. It's not a title – it's a role. One that's earned through presence, through sacrifice, through quiet, unseen acts of care. In my life, fatherhood has come in many forms. It was my best friend's father who drove eight hours from Tanjung Malim, Perak to my sleepy kampung in Johor, just so he and my best friend could stand by my side on the day my father died. It was my late English tutor in medical school, who once returned an essay to me – on torn paper – not to scold me, but to praise the writing and gently remind me about self-respect. The lesson he imparted that day, I have carried with me ever since. It was also my late maternal grandfather Kanagasegaran Subramaniam, who stepped into Appa's shoes when he was too ill. He came with me on my first day of medical school. He assembled a table fan to keep me cool in the hostel. He came to my graduation, and after I began working, he'd still call almost weekly to check in – no matter how little time I had. Fatherhood lived in those gestures, too. So, in a tribute to all fathers, I remember Appa – not as a perfect man, but as mine. The man who taught me to love language, who gave without asking, who left too soon, but somehow left enough of himself behind for me to carry. To those who never had an Appa like mine – or who found fatherhood in unexpected places – I see you. May we all keep learning how to give and receive love, in all the ways it arrives.
New Straits Times
26-05-2025
- New Straits Times
NST Leader: The many dangers of uncertified power banks
ALMOST everyone is walking around with a portable power bank in their bag or pocket. And yet Sirim certification is not mandatory. Why? Sirim says the Domestic Trade and Cost of Living Ministry has yet to gazette power banks as products requiring the government-owned industrial research and technology body's certification. Ask the ministry, as the New Sunday Times did, and a spokesperson put it thus: "Our role is limited to handling consumer complaints, such as if a buyer is deceived or receives a defective product." And so we end up in a grey area. But perhaps we need to point out that in 2017, the ministry did announce plans for a Sirim certification for all power banks. The move was almost a certainty that the media, especially the technology news portals, began welcoming the move. Because they know defective power banks can be fatally dangerous. But no answer is forthcoming as to why the plan was never realised. That begs a question: if the ministry could do it then, why not now? What exactly is holding up mandatory Sirim certification for power banks? Those who care for consumer safety continue to warn the authorities that so long as there is no clear regulation, unsafe products such as power banks will continue to be sold. China, where most of the power banks come from, is doing a better job. Starting August last year, it banned uncertified power banks and batteries from leaving the factories, or being sold or exported. Consumers associations have been urging the government for the longest time to make such certifications mandatory. There have been far too many cases of power banks catching fire, even exploding. One such tragic incident led to the death of a 19-year-old on May 26, 2017. Understandably, consumers do not know which power banks are safe and which are not because the components that cause overheating are not visible to them. Even if they were, consumers won't be able to tell a defective device from one that isn't. Sirim's certification can help them do so. As electrical engineer Associate Professor Dr Mohamad Fahmi Hussin told the New Sunday Times, low-quality power banks pose serious risk to users as they are more prone to overheating. Because they are cheap — some are sold for RM30 — they don't have a battery management system, which is crucial for preventing overheating, overcharging and short circuits. Fahmi put it thus: "Without a battery management system, lithium-ion cells can enter thermal runaway — an uncontrolled, self-heating process that can lead to fires and explosions." If this isn't enough, some manufacturers, he warned, use recycled or second-hand cells salvaged from discarded laptops or e-bikes, leading to deterioration overtime. Obviously, none of this degradation is visible to the users. There is only one way out of this mess: the government must make Sirim certification mandatory for all secondary battery products, including power banks. But it must not just stop there. A robust enforcement must follow. Crackdown on the sale of uncertified power banks mustn't be an occasional operation; it must be persistent. In the meantime — we hope this isn't a very long "meantime" — our advice to consumers is this: stay away from uncertified power banks.
New Straits Times
24-05-2025
- Business
- New Straits Times
Call for action: Consumer groups push for mandatory certification of power banks
KUALA LUMPUR: Consumer groups have called on the government to make Sirim certification mandatory for power banks, warning that the continued sale of uncertified devices puts users at risk. Consumers Association of Penang (CAP) president Mohideen Abdul Kader said many power banks being sold for between RM30 and RM60 did not bear any safety or certification marks. "Uncertified power banks will continue to be sold as long as there is demand for cheap products," he told the New Sunday Times. Mohideen added that many consumers were unaware of the importance of buying electrical appliances with safety certification, such as the Sirim label or other international standards. Federation of Malaysian Consumers Associations (Fomca) chief executive officer T. Saravanan said. "The safety of consumers must come first, and it's high time the government made Sirim certification mandatory," he said. He added that this should be followed by a crackdown on the sale of uncertified power banks. Saravanan said that in 2017, the then domestic trade and cost of living minister announced plans to require Sirim certification for all power banks. However, the plan was never realised. "Without clear regulation and enforcement, unsafe products will keep reaching consumers. "Many such incidents go unreported because consumers either don't know how to file a complaint or feel the damage is minor," he added. Malaysia Consumers Movement (MCM) legal adviser Sukhdave Singh expressed similar concerns. "It's disappointing that the government has not acted on this, more so when there is a pressing need. "We call on the government to make power bank certification mandatory immediately. "Right now, we can only advise people not to buy uncertified power banks, but for real change, regulation is needed to hold manufacturers, importers and sellers accountable," he said. A quick check by the New Sunday Times found power banks being sold online for as low as RM16, raising doubts about the safety of such devices. Many of them did not have Sirim certification.
