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HOI Short Story Competition

Notice the unnoticed. Shine a light and give your peers a platform to share their fascinating perspectives with the world! The sky is not the limit when there are footprints on the moon!

Humans of IMU presents Kaleidoscope
Send in your stories about an extraordinary person following the theme: Kaleidoscope. The theme refers to the exquisitely unique and vibrant complexities found within each person. Lets celebrate our unsung heroes by publishing their narratives

For more information, contact Aruvi at 0124067511.

Check the link below for more updates.

Humans of IMU IMU Editorial Board

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“Tabula rasa – the mind is a blank slate written on by experience “

Every child is believed to be a tabula rasa, a clean slate; which is why the most notorious criminals often surprise the public with unthinkable acts, making us wonder what drove them to commit such heinous crimes. Ted Bundy, an American serial killer, kidnapper, rapist, burglar and necrophile attributed his actions to his traumatic childhood – his early days were mostly spent with his abusive grandfather in the absence of his biological father. J.K. Rowling also cleverly illustrated how Voldemort’s childhood shaped him into the individual he was. Born out of a Love Potion, he lacked maternal love and spent his younger days in an institution where power and coercion were omnipresent, finally convincing him that power was the only thing he needed.

Being a curious lot, Malaysian Medic International: Malaysia ventured into the art of deciphering criminal minds with the help of a few professionals on the 9 th and 10th of June at the International Medical University, Bukit Jalil campus. The event of MMI Mental Health: A Novel Approach encompassed keynotes, workshops, research presentation and panel discussion.

The first day involved exploring childhood events via keynote topics of Freudian and Erikson in a nutshell; cognitive, social and emotional development; attachment and divorce; and personality development and adverse childhood events. On the second day, we attempted to fathom criminal minds and criminal acts; trauma, torture and post-traumatic stress disorder; forensic psychology and finally the power of positive psychology. A myriad of workshops followed suit – substance abuse, domestic violence and suicide risk assessment. As art is increasingly popular in medicine as a therapeutic tool, we incorporated fields like dance, art and drama into our therapy workshops alongside cognitive behavioural therapy. We then concluded the first day with workshops such as clinical hypnosis, positive psychology and even laughter yoga!

These workshops proved to be the highlight of the event, or shall I say the ticket sales X-factor as we exceeded our target crowd with 123 participants in total! The research presentation was carried out on the second day in a closed setting to allow participants to interact with the judges without inhibition. The top ten will soon have their abstracts published in the Malaysian Journal of Medicine so do check it out when the new edition comes out. We had three distinguished guest speakers for our panel discussion; a family medicine specialist, a psychiatrist and an obstetrician and gynaecologist discuss issues revolving around perinatal mental health – frankly speaking, a misunderstood cultural norm. Of course, all these would not have been possible without the collaboration with the Student Representative Council of International Medical University.

MMI Malaysia greatly appreciates any form of help directly and indirectly from the student body of International Medical University. This inaugural mental health summit is really one of its kind as we transcended boundaries and discussed about one of the most controversial topics. This event has sparked the participants’ interest in unconventional forms of therapy and mental health itself. It was also a great networking opportunity for the therapists to go out there and speak to the crowd about what they do best. For us at MMI, that was more than what we had hoped for and with that, MMI Mental Health: A Novel Approach is a wrap.

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世间万物, 只要是生灵, 必由父母结合而生。

人们常说,母爱是世界上最无私、伟大的爱。 然而,父亲的爱何尝不是如此?于父亲而言,孩子绝对是最重要的。因此,父爱绝不逊色于母爱

与母亲不同,身为男人的父亲总多点理智。但是,正因父爱多了理智,这种爱才会是那个默默地守护我们、引领我们往正确的人生道路前进的爱。母亲对孩子的爱往往是盲目、宠溺的。此时,孩子更需要父亲理智的爱来中和,才能避免孩子在母爱的宠溺下误入歧途。

父爱在坚韧同时又可悲。他们默默地为我们遮风挡雨,铺好前进的道路,却无法得到相应的回报。默默表达的父爱,总无法让孩子觉察,也无法获得体谅与感激。

父爱是伟大的。纵然他们知道自己或许无法获得孩子的回报,他们仍义无反顾地坚持着原则,维持着低调的爱与严厉的形象。让他们坚持的理由十分纯粹,就是为了给孩子最好的。

如果说,母爱仿佛微暖的煦阳照耀我们;那么,父爱就是夜晚的灯塔,纵使冷冽,却是那么地让人安心。

父亲们,辛苦了!

 

by,

Lee Yi De

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Abah marah sebab abah sayangkan kamu.

Abah larang sebab abah tahu banyak bahaya dunia lebih dari yang kamu tahu.

Abah pukul sebab abah nak kamu rasa sakit yang sedikit ini, sebelum kamu rasa sakitnya kebodohan tindakan kamu nanti.

Kadang, abah diamkan sahaja, tanpa memuji kejayaan kamu, sebab abah taknak kamu terlalu bangga diri.

Sejujurnya abah bangga dengan kamu.

Kadang, abah tak lepas tangan kamu, sebab belum tentu, besar nanti abah dapat pimpin kamu lagi.

Kadang abah tak dengar nasihat kamu, sebab jiwa kecil abah senang mendengar bebelan kamu.

Sifat abah memang begitu, keras di lihat, lembut di hati.
af685a73-8404-4c14-a9da-e494b8d77bed
By,
Anis Arina Jasmin

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The clock strikes 4 in the evening, a slight hailstorm hits the window panes of a shabby government hospital. Alongside the wide blue corridors leading to a small but comfortable room, a nurse welcomes a baby into this world, who is wailing his heart out. His mother smiles in exhaustion and the man next to her weeps in joy, as he picks up the baby and says, “Welcome to the world, my child!”

Some would argue that being a father is limited to that overjoyed man in the hospital above. But, is that all what being a father means? Is there not more to this role, this character and this identity?

Let’s take a glimpse into my life, where I explored the answer to those questions at the age of 15. I was in my teens where I often wished my father could bring us to travel the world, go on vacations and spend time together like any other family. I was starting college when I longed for my father to spar with me during badminton, he was a passionate player back in his days and I thrived for more games with him. But alas, my father was not someone who earned millions from his job, and was a chronic diabetic.

But when I needed him, he was there for me. He would wish me luck for every exam I ever wrote, praying with all his heart. He would help me draft my speeches when I emceed events, often ending in so much support and encouragement. He would validate my choice of shirts with ties, despite my consistent asking of over 4 pairs sometimes and most importantly, he tried, with all his heart and soul, to be someone to everyone who crossed his path.

Right now, at 22, as I look back at those questions, I know I have found the answer! No, being a father is beyond procreating and having a child! A father is an epitome of love, a pillar of strength and someone that you look up to. It is about sharing the joy in the small things; from the drama in every gossip to every minute spent during each meal. And right now, that matters so much more than a trip to Istanbul or a winning a father-son badminton competition. I could not have been more blessed to have a father like you; thank you Acha, for being yourself and for telling me to always be myself!

By,

Shamisr Das

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在这个世界上,他是对我最好的男人,在这个世界上,他是唯一会为我付出但不求回报的人, 在这世界上,他给予我的爱是独一无二的。他,是我的父亲,我上辈子的爱人。

我的父亲是家里的经济支柱。他每天早出晚归,为的就是让我们拥有舒适的生活环境。他总是笑眯眯的,但为了这个家,他流过多少汗水,花过多少心血,只有他知道。

我的前世情人是个不善言辞的人,但他给我的温暖却蕴藏在他的一举一动中。一句“吃饱了吗?”、一杯果汁、一件外套都足以让我感受到父爱。我的父亲不是100 分的父亲,因为父爱是不能用数字来衡量的。

爸爸,感谢您愿意用一生来呵护我。倘若女儿真是爸爸的前世情人,感谢上天让我们在这一世再次相遇, 并从情人进阶到了拥有血缘关系的亲人。您用您的下半辈子来照顾我的上半辈子,就让我用我的上半辈子,陪伴您走完人生的路吧!

By,

SIM MONG YI

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Father, a word sternly woven into every child’s mind, be it a daughter or a son. The word ‘Father’ resonates an embodiment of authority, strength, wisdom and adamant values. The prerogative provider, the proud protector, reflects the lawful duty of what every boy are expected to be when matured. However, what is the true purpose of being a ‘father’ means in nowadays time? The term ‘father’ undermines the societal value of pressuring men sought to be. But, is this truly the case? To understand what ‘father’ is and was, look no further as I will evaluate the following term through – My Father.

My father was the true embodiment of every expectation of being a father. Cold, calm and stoic as anyone could ever possibly imagine. It has been awhile since my father and I ever had any sort of social engagement. The only impression I could describe my father was that he is basically God, always busy elsewhere. Throughout my lifetime, he never complains, he never surrenders his emotion, his health and his pain at least not that I know of.

However, aside of the stone-cold persona he adopted, I somehow peculiarly empathize his struggles. From growing up starving to owning houses and cars, he inspired me to be a man of my own, to shoulder the burden of life bestowed upon us. The one quote he struck me hard was: “The road ahead is arduous, no place for a boy. Power, of any kind comes from the heart, but only when tempered by the mind, through self-discipline and focus from the one who wields it. That is where the true strength of an individual lies”. Ultimately, my father taught me being a father was to willingly sacrifice himself for the greater good of his family, to stand tall in pride facing our own adversaries.

By,

Hing Mook Lin

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The love is Permanent, Pure and Perfect. The three P’s that I will always use to describe my love towards my dad. He is the one who brings joy, happiness and laughters to my life. My dad is the one that will pull me up whenever I fall, hug me tightly when I am devastated, and love me the most when I have the world go against me. Like what all will say, my father is the best father in this world. It is cliché but true.

I still remember this day during Ramadan 2016 when my mum told me that my dad was discriminated by a bunch of people due to his excellent performance at work. I remained quiet for a moment. It shattered my heart into pieces to see this culture in the society especially to my dad. “It is okay mum if dad doesn’t seem to receive any recognitions from his colleague, look at all his children. They are all successful. My school teachers recognise my determination and praise both of you for bringing me up so well. Maybe this is one of the ways of God showing His love to dad ?” I told my mum. My mum was stunned and replied “That is true,my dear. I have never thought of that. Your dad is definitely a great man to have great children like all of you.”

Dear dad, I promise to heal you whenever you are sad, hold you tightly everytime and shower you with abundance of affection all the time. I will pray to God to keep you safe in His arms and always shower you with infinity love from everyone. I dedicate all my success to you and mum because I believe behind every great daughter is a truly amazing DAD!

By,

SHAHKEERAH KAMARUL

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It’s been a decade since I lost you. Each day I move on from you, each day I forget a piece of you. As much as I want to remember, you’re not here to remind me of your walk and the way you talk. All I can do is reminisce the days I had with you and try to keep you alive in my brain.  

I see so many people with their father’s on this specific day. With you gone, I find myself looking for you in people. I look at these people and think to myself that maybe your characteristics lie in these people that I’m close to? Who else should I look for to replace you?  

Why did you have to go, father? Why did you leave me prematurely? You could’ve lived longer and see the growth of your own daughter. You’re no longer in this world and you’ll forever be the age of 36. 

Now as I grow older and wiser with my cluttered brain, I find that it’s so hard to remember who you once were to me. Each day that goes by is an indicator  of old and bittersweet memories with you. The more I live on, the more I forget about you for verily every human will benefit from a reminder and today is that day that reminds me the most of you.  

Today is the day that makes me remember you but only your name and nothing else. I can’t remember the voice that echoes through the house when you come home or the voice or the jokes you made. You are but a distant vision I have and will always have for the rest of my life. I can see your silhouette at the end of this tunnel but I am nowhere near it.  

It feels like you’re just a stranger to me now, like a passerby I met on the street. I have no idea who you are anymore even with all these photo albums of you. It frustrates me that I never had so much time with you from the beginning. I don’t know who you are yet your name is tattooed in mine.  

Maybe to me now, knowing you isn’t having to put a voice on your face or knowing the sounds of your laugh and sneezes but already having your name imprinted onto mine , you are me and I am you. Whatever I do everyday, you’re in my blood. I am an incarnation of your blood that’s been moulded, just like my mother. You are my heartbeat and every breath. 

Maybe you’re not so far after all. Possibly I do know and you’re not much of a stranger as I thought you once were. All I know now is that I can’t wait meet you again, my father.  

By,

Tunku Muhammad
 

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I can see it. I’m almost there. Just a little farther and I’ll reach the summit.

Fatigue takes its toll on my limbs, but I hold on to the jagged rock like my life depends on it. I’d better hurry. There’s no way I’ll give up after coming this far. Mustering the last of my strength, I haul myself up on to the smooth outcrop.

I made it! I can’t believe I did it!

All of a sudden, I hear a rumble. My head whips towards the direction of the sound. The only thing I see is the glare of the sun’s rays. It’s so bright it hurts. I squeeze my eyes shut instinctively, and that’s when everything goes wrong.

The mountain begins to tremble and shake. I lose my footing and feel my body pitching forward as I plummet to the ground. A gust of wind rushes through my ears, whispering my demise. I keep falling and falling. It scares me, but I don’t know what to do, so I hold my breath and wait for the impact –

But … nothing.

I blink a couple of times, squinting in the bright fluorescent lights of the kitchen.

A dark shadow suddenly looms over me, blocking out the light. Soon, my eyes become accustomed to the brightness.

“Are you alright?”

I stare at my father’s face, then nod my head. I turn my attention to the cookie jar that’s now out of reach and point a stubby finger at it.

“You want a cookie?”

I nod again. My father sets me down on the floor before reaching for the cookies. He opens the jar, takes one out and hands it to me.

“Don’t do that again, okay?”

I grin and munch on my cookie as I walk away.

By, Anonymous