When life becomes a journey of farewells
By Dr. T. Selva
The older we grow, the more we begin to understand that life is also a journey of farewells.
On May 16, I lost a close journalist comrade, Loh Boon Chuan, who passed away peacefully
at the age of 71.
His passing has left a deep void in my heart, not merely because he was a fellow journalist,

but because I looked upon him as my big brother who guided me during my formative years
in journalism.
Together, we criss-crossed the entire state of Selangor, reporting stories that shaped
communities and exposed truths.
We chased crime scenes in the dead of night, attended political ceramahs under the scorching
sun and pouring rain, and often scooped our rival media colleagues.
We also travelled together to cover events involving the Sultan of Selangor and the Mentri
Besar, while reporting on business developments, accidents, tragedies and celebrations.
Journalism in the 1980s was notmerely a profession. It was a calling that demanded courage,

stamina and conviction. Loh embodied all these qualities.
As a reporter with the Nanyang Siang Pau based in Klang, he displayed remarkable bravery
and dedication in his pursuit of stories.
He made sure no one bullied me and was always protective of me.
He remained calm under pressure, meticulous in his reporting and generous in sharing his
experience with younger journalists like myself.
He was never afraid to ask difficult questions, even when politicians warned reporters not to
touch on sensitive issues.
Despite his seniority, he was never arrogant. Instead, he carried himself with humility, quiet
wisdom and the fearlessness of a true journalist.
On July 3 last year, after many years apart, we met again for a long catch-up session.
We reminisced about our reporting days, the challenges we faced without mobile phones, and
the unforgettable moments we experienced while reporting across Selangor.
Time seemed to rewind itself as we laughed over incidents only journalists would understand.
Before we parted ways, he handed mea bunch of bananas grown in his own garden.

To others, it may have appeared to be a simple gesture, but to me it carried deep meaning.
It reflected the simplicity of his heart and the sincerity of his friendship.
Today, that memory has become even more precious.
Sometimes, the smallest acts of kindness become the greatest treasures after someone is gone.
Since the beginning of this year, I have found myself receiving news of death almost every
other week or hearing about someone I know who is on his or her deathbed.
Some were close friends, some relatives, and some acquaintances from different phases of
life.
Each passing leaves behind a certain silence within the soul.
There comes a point where grief accumulates quietly, like layers of unseen weight upon the
heart.

As we age, we slowly realise that death is not a distant event belonging only to others.
It walks beside life constantly, unseen yet certain.
No wealth, fame, status or influence can bargain with mortality.
Death remains the one appointment every soul must eventually honour.
Yet while death is inevitable, coping with repeated losses remains one of life’s greatest
emotional challenges.
Grief has a way of arriving unexpectedly. Sometimes it appears as tears. Sometimes as
numbness, exhaustion, silence, or even fear.
There are days when one feels emotionally drained after hearing yet another obituary
message or condolence announcement.
One begins to wonder how much more loss the human heart can absorb.
But perhaps coping does not mean becoming immune to grief. Perhaps coping means
learning to carry grief with grace.
I have come to realise that every loss also teaches us something valuable about life itself.
The passing of those we love reminds us not to postpone kindness, gratitude or reconciliation.
We begin to value conversations more deeply. We cherish meetings that once seemed
ordinary.
We appreciate simple gestures — like a gift of bananas from a friend’s garden — because we
now understand such moments may never come again.
Spiritual traditions across the world teach us that the body is temporary, but the soul
continues its onward journey.
Whether through prayer, meditation or quiet reflection, faith often becomes the anchor that
steadies the grieving heart.
It reminds us that while physical presence disappears, love and memories transcend death.
Coping with loss also requires allowing ourselves to grieve honestly.
Society often expects people to “stay strong,” but strength does not mean suppressing sorrow.
True strength lies in acknowledging pain while continuing to move forward with compassion
and purpose.
I also believe that one way to honour those who have departed is by living more meaningfully
ourselves.
To become kinder and to forgive more readily. To spend time with loved ones while we still
can, and to say the words we often delay.
The passing of Loh has reminded me not only of the impermanence of life, but also of the
enduring value of friendship, humility and human connection.
Though saddened by his departure, I remain grateful that our paths crossed in this lifetime
and that we had the opportunity to meet once more before he left this world.
As I reflect on the many losses that have surrounded me recently, I am learning that coping
with grief is not about forgetting those who have gone.
It is about carrying their memories gently within us while continuing our own journey with
courage, faith and gratitude.
For one day, others too will remember us not by the wealth we accumulated, but by the
kindness we shared, the lives we touched and the love we left behind.

Award-winning writer Dr. T. Selva is the author of the bestsellers Vasthu Sastra Guide
and Secrets of Happy Living. To get a copy, WhatsApp 019-2728464. He can be reached
at drtselvas@gmail.com. Website: www.vasthuguide.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Renewal at Bali’s sacred spring pool

 By Dr. T. Selva

 In the lush highlands of Tampaksiring lies one of Bali’s most revered spiritual sanctuaries — Tirta Empul Temple, where sacred waters, ancient legend, and quiet devotion converge in a timeless rhythm.

Surrounded by emerald rice terraces and swaying coconut palms, the temple radiates a serenity that gently slows the mind.

I had read about this holy site before, but nothing prepared me for the depth of what awaited me over the past week—the Melukat, a traditional purification ritual that has drawn pilgrims for over a thousand years.

Founded in 962 AD during the Warmadewa Dynasty, Tirta Empul — meaning “holy water that emerges from the ground” — is built around a natural spring that continues to flow with remarkable clarity.

This spring feeds a series of purification pools, where devotees and visitors immerse themselves in a ritual believed to cleanse not only the body, but also the mind and spirit.

The temple is dedicated to Lord Indra, the celestial deity of rain and thunder.

According to legend, Indra struck the earth to create this very spring in order to revive his poisoned soldiers, thus sanctifying the waters as a source of divine healing.

Even today, that revered current flows uninterrupted, a quiet yet powerful reminder of life’s continuity.

Stepping into the temple complex is like entering another realm. Intricately carved stone gateways, guardian statues wrapped in checkered cloth, and offerings of flowers and incense create an atmosphere of reverence.

The air carries the scent of sandalwood and frangipani, while soft prayers rise and dissolve into the stillness.

At the heart of the temple are the purification pools, lined with 14 sacred water spouts, known locally as pancoran.

Each spout carries its own spiritual significance, forming a complete journey of inner cleansing and the ritual of letting go.

Dressed in a green sarong and red sash, I joined a quiet line of worshippers standing waist-deep in the purification pool.

Before entering, I offered a silent prayer, a gesture of humility and permission.

The water was cool, almost startling at first touch, yet deeply soothing.

 

I began at the first spout on the left, as tradition dictates, moving slowly from one to the next. Of the 14 spouts, 12 are used for personal purification, while two are respectfully skipped, as they are reserved for funeral rites and death-related ceremonies.

At each flowing stream, I paused, pressed my palms together, and bowed before allowing the water to cascade over my head.

Each spout, I was told, represents a different form of cleansing — purifying the body, calming the mind, releasing fear, dissolving negative energy, washing away past karma, and restoring spiritual balance.

What struck me most was how the ritual moved beyond mere symbolism.

With every stream of water, there was a subtle yet tangible sense of release, as if unseen burdens were being gently lifted.

In Balinese Hinduism, water is more than an element; it is a bridge between the physical and the spiritual realms.

The Melukat ritual embodies this belief that, through sacred water, one can return to a state of harmony.

Around me, local devotees placed offerings in small woven baskets, their prayers soft yet unwavering.

There was no display, no spectacle, only a quiet devotion woven into daily life.

Visitors who had entered the pool with curiosity soon fell silent, their expressions transformed.

By the time they completed the sequence of spouts, many appeared lighter, as though something within had shifted.

After completing the final spout, I stepped out of the pool and sat quietly by the courtyard. The spring continued to bubble gently in the background, unchanged by time.

It was in that stillness that the deeper meaning of the experience settled within me.

This was not merely about cleansing the body. It was about the release of worry, of fear, of accumulated emotional weight.

My local guide, Wayang Dageng, shared a simple yet profound reflection:

“The water here never stops flowing, just like life itself. When you bathe here, you are reminded that all pain and worry can flow away too — if only you allow it.”

As I left the temple grounds, I turned back for one final glance at the shimmering purification pools.

According to Balinese belief, one should undertake this ritual at least once a year, or during times of difficulty and transition — a way of realigning the body, mind, and spirit.

For me, Tirta Empul was not just a destination. It was an inward journey.

The 14 sacred spouts are not merely streams of water, but pathways of release — each one gently washing away a layer of the seen and unseen burdens we carry.

Tirta Empul offered something rare, a moment to pause, to cleanse, and to begin again.

True healing is not of the body alone. It is the quiet release of all that burdens the soul, allowing the spirit to flow as freely as the sacred spring itself.

 

Award-winning writer Dr. T. Selva is the author of the bestsellers Vasthu Sastra Guide and Secrets of Happy Living. To get a copy, WhatsApp 019-2728464.  He can be reached at drtselvas@gmail.com. Website: www.vasthuguide.com

By Dr. T. Selva
Some lives do not end with time. They continue to breathe quietly through the spaces they
created, the people they touched, and the values they lived by.
This past week, I was reminded of such a life, that of my grandfather, Govindasamy.
More than 40 years after his passing, a simple yet deeply meaningful tribute unfolded at
Taman Lintang Nau, a neighbourhood park in Port Klang on May 8th.
Three concrete garden chairs were installed, each bearing the words “Govindasamy Legacy
Bench.”
It was not a grand monument, nor an elaborate ceremony. Yet, in its simplicity, it carried a
profound message that a life lived with kindness never truly fades.
The installation of the concrete benches was witnessed by Klang City Hall councillor Sharon
Chia and Govindasamy’s grandson, T. Ashok Kumar.
The benches were contributed by his great-grandchildren, who, despite never having met
him, grew up hearing stories of his generosity and were inspired to honour and preserve his
legacy at the park.
As I stood there, watching the installation, I realised that this was never just about benches.
It was about memory. It was about continuity. It was about a man whose generosity continues
to ripple through time.
My grandfather was not a man who sought recognition, although he was a Class A road
contractor. He did not measure success by wealth or status.
Instead, he lived with a quiet conviction that what we give to others is what ultimately
defines us.
He once lived on that very land. He developed his land into a housing scheme, but more
importantly, he chose to give part of it away, setting aside a portion as a community park.
In doing so, he created something far greater than property.
He created a shared space for laughter, rest, and connection — something that would outlive
him.
Even within his own family, his generosity was boundless.
He ensured that each of his eight children had a home in Taman Lintang Nau, planting not
just roots but stability for generations to come.
Yet, what remains most striking is not what he gave materially, but the spirit in which he
gave, always placing others before himself.
Standing under the shade of an old tree planted during his time in that park, I watched as
people sat on those benches, some in conversation, others in quiet reflection.
They may not have known his story. They may never have heard his name before. Yet, they
were already part of his legacy.
Each bench carries words that reflect the essence of his life — peace, unity, joy, harmony,
kindness, happiness, calm, reflection and bliss.
These are not just inscriptions. They are reminders. Gentle invitations for anyone who sits
there to pause, to breathe, and perhaps to live a little more consciously.

In a world that often celebrates accumulation, my grandfather’s life offers a different
perspective, one that speaks of contribution.
His legacy is not etched in marble or recorded in history books.
It lives in the everyday, in children playing in a park, in families gathering at dusk, in
strangers finding a moment of rest on a quiet afternoon.
And perhaps that is the truest form of immortality.
We often wonder what we will leave behind.
For many, it is a question tied to achievement. But for a rare few like him, the answer is
simple: they leave behind something of value to others.
As I walked away from the park that day, I did so with a quiet sense of gratitude.
Not just for what my grandfather had given, but for what he continues to give.
Because a meaningful life is not measured by what we take with us, but by what remains long
after we are gone.
Award-winning writer Dr. T. Selva is the author of the bestsellers Vasthu Sastra Guide
and Secrets of Happy Living. To get a copy, WhatsApp 019-2728464. He can be reached
at drtselvas@gmail.com. Website: www.vasthuguide.com

By Dr. T. Selva

Framed by the dazzling glow of Singapore’s skyscrapers, I found myself drawn into a
spectacle that was both rare and deeply sacred.
Before me, a towering figure made entirely of straw leaped, spun, and swirled with
astonishing energy at the Singapore Esplanade Courtyard.
For over 30 minutes, it moved tirelessly in a trance, accompanied by rhythmic drumming,
spirited singing, and the sharp metallic chime of bells.
At moments, it seemed almost unreal, as though the laws of the physical world had briefly
stepped aside.
This was the Kumpo, the dance of the spirit protector, performed at the opening of the
Tapestry of Sacred Music 2026 in Singapore on Thursday.
Using a stick fixed to the top of its head as a pivot, the figure executed rapid, dizzying spins,
at times moving close to fire as if to embrace it, yet never burning.
It is not regarded as a person in costume, but as a manifestation of the spirit world itself.
This is why the performer’s identity remains completely concealed, covered in layered straw,
with only a pole rising from the head, symbolising a link between heaven and earth.
The Kumpo was not merely a performance. It is believed to be an ancestral spirit, one that
bridges the world of the living and the unseen realm.
In its presence, I sensed that protection is not just physical, but deeply spiritual.
What struck me most was not merely the visual intensity of the dance but the powerful
collective energy it stirred and shared among those present.
It felt like a truly unique cleansing process, one that drove away negative forces.
The Kumpo moved among the people, blessing, engaging, even playfully confronting, yet
always commanding reverence.
It reminded me that in many ancient traditions, spirituality is not silent or distant, it is alive,
expressive, and communal.
The origins of this sacred dance lie among the Jola people of West Africa, particularly in
southern Senegal and The Gambia.
Their lives are deeply rooted in nature through farming, rice cultivation, and traditional
medicine.
At the heart of their belief system is Ata Emit, the supreme being who governs the skies and
seasons.
Their spiritual practices include shrines, rituals, and protective charms, each serving as a
shield against unseen forces and a channel for divine blessings.
As I watched the Kumpo whirl in rhythmic precision, I could not help but reflect on the
principles of Vasthu Sastra, the ancient Indian science of space, energy, and harmony.
Vasthu teaches us that every space carries a vibration.
When aligned correctly, it invites health, prosperity, and peace.
When disturbed, it can create restlessness, obstacles, and imbalance.
The remedies prescribed in Vasthu, whether through spatial corrections, sacred symbols, or
rituals, are ultimately meant to restore protection and positive flow within a dwelling.
In many ways, the Kumpo serves a similar purpose, but at a community level.
Dressed in a full-body costume of raffia palm leaves, bound with bark ropes and crowned
with a wooden staff, the Kumpo is no longer seen as human once adorned.
It becomes a vessel, a guardian spirit connected to divine and ancestral energies. As it dances,
it is believed to cleanse the environment, drive away negativity, and reinforce unity among
the people.
This is not unlike the Vasthu concept of activating and protecting a space.

Just as we place sacred elements in a home to stabilise energy, the Jola community invokes
the Kumpo to energetically fortify their surroundings.
The spinning motion itself—continuous, circular, and powerful—felt like a living yantra,
generating and redistributing energy across the space.
The drumming, clapping, and chanting further amplify this vibrational field, much like
mantras in our own spiritual traditions.
At the end of the dance, the Kumpo communicates through an interpreter, delivering
messages that range from practical guidance to moral reminders.
It is, in essence, a spiritual audit of the community, ensuring that harmony, discipline, and
collective responsibility are upheld.
In today’s fast-paced, individualistic world, such practices may seem distant or even mystical.
Yet their underlying principles are universal. Every culture, in its own way, acknowledges the
need for protection, both seen and unseen.
Whether through the structured alignment of Vasthu or the dynamic expression of the Kumpo
dance, the intention remains the same: to create spaces where life can flourish in balance.
Witnessing this ritual in a modern city like Singapore was particularly meaningful. It was a
reminder that no matter how advanced our surroundings become, our inner need for
connection, protection, and spiritual grounding remains unchanged.
The Kumpo does not merely dance; it protects, purifies, and unites.
And perhaps, it gently reminds us of something we often overlook: that the spaces we inhabit,
like the lives we lead, must be consciously energised, protected, and aligned.
For in the end, whether through a sacred dance in West Africa or the principles of Vasthu in
our homes, the goal is the same—to live in harmony with forces greater than ourselves.

Award-winning writer Dr. T. Selva is the author of the bestsellers Vasthu Sastra Guide
and Secrets of Happy Living. To get a copy, WhatsApp 019-2728464. He can be reached
at drtselvas@gmail.com. Website: www.vasthuguide.com

 

Dr T Selva

The home we live in has always been regarded as more than a physical shelter.
It is a living space of energy, subtle, dynamic, and deeply responsive to the people and
elements within it.
In Vasthu Sastra, every object, direction, and presence within a home is believed to influence
this energy field, shaping the well-being of its occupants.
One question that often arises in modern households is this: What does Vasthu say about
keeping pets, particularly dogs and cats?
More specifically, there is a long-standing belief that while dogs are considered auspicious,

cats are not. But how should we understand this in today’s context?
Traditionally, dogs have been associated with protection, loyalty, and vigilance.
In Hindu spiritual symbolism, the dog is linked to Bhairava, a fierce manifestation of Lord
Shiva.
The dog is seen as the deity’s companion and guardian, symbolising watchfulness and the
ability to ward off negative influences.
This association has naturally led to the belief that keeping a dog in the home invites
protective and positive energy.
Cats, on the other hand, have been viewed differently in certain traditional circles.
Their quiet, independent, and nocturnal nature has sometimes been misunderstood, leading to
perceptions that they are associated with secrecy or subtle, unseen forces.
In some folklore, cats have even been associated with mystery, unpredictability and
negativity, which over time translated into the idea that they may not be energetically
favourable within a home.
However, it is important to pause here and reflect: are these interpretations absolute truths, or
are they cultural perceptions shaped by time, context, and human understanding?
Vasthu Sastra, at its core, is not about rigid rules but about harmony.
It teaches us to observe how energy flows within a space and how that energy interacts with
those who live in it.
From this perspective, it becomes clear that the presence of any living being, whether human

or animal, cannot be judged solely by traditional labels.
A dog, though symbolically protective, can create disturbance if it is aggressive, neglected, or
kept in unsuitable conditions.
Excessive barking, restlessness, or poor hygiene can disrupt the calm energy of a home.
Similarly, a cat, often perceived as aloof, can, in fact, bring quiet companionship, calm, and
emotional comfort when well cared for and integrated into the household.
What truly matters is not the species, but the state of being.
A pet that is loved, nurtured, and cared for radiates a gentle and positive vibration.
Animals are highly sensitive to human emotions and environments.
They respond to affection, stability, and routine. In return, they often become sources of joy,
emotional healing, and even stress relief for their owners.

In such a setting, the energy they contribute is undoubtedly uplifting.
On the other hand, any pet, whether a dog, cat, or otherwise, that is neglected, confined
improperly, or left in unclean conditions can contribute to stagnation and discomfort.
Odour, clutter, and poor hygiene are all factors that Vasthu clearly identifies as disruptors of

positive energy flow.
This brings us to a more practical and relevant understanding of Vasthu in modern living.
If one chooses to keep pets at home, attention must be given to cleanliness, placement, and
care.
Feeding areas should be kept neat and ideally placed in appropriate zones, such as northwest
and southeast of the house.
Sleeping areas for pets should not obstruct pathways or create cluttered corners.
Most importantly, the overall environment must remain fresh, well-ventilated, and
harmonious.
Equally significant is the emotional energy of the occupants. A home filled with compassion,
responsibility, and love naturally creates a high vibrational field.
Pets, in such an environment, become part of that positive ecosystem rather than a source of
imbalance.
It is also worth acknowledging that many traditional guidelines were framed in a different
era, when lifestyles, living conditions, and human-animal relationships were very different
from what they are today.
In earlier times, animals were often kept outdoors, and concerns about hygiene and safety
were more pronounced.
These factors may have influenced certain interpretations that are now carried forward
without context.
In today’s environment, pets arenot merely animals; they are companions, often considered

part of the family.
They share our living spaces, our routines, and even our emotional journeys.
To label one as inherently auspicious and another as inauspicious without considering the
broader picture may oversimplify a much deeper science.
Vasthu, when understood in its true spirit, encourages awareness rather than fear.
It invites us to observe, to feel, and to create balance in our surroundings.
It reminds us that energy is not dictated by superstition but by alignment between space,
intention, and living presence.
Therefore, whether one chooses to keep a dog, a cat, or any other pet, the guiding principle
should always be harmony.
Ancient traditions also teach that caring for stray animals generates positive Karma, uplifting
both the home and the heart.
Feeding dogs is believed to invite protection, while kindness to cats fosters calm and
compassion.
When done mindfully and responsibly, such acts expand the home’s energy, returning not as
superstition, but as grace.
In conclusion, while tradition may offer symbolic interpretations, modern understanding calls
for mindful application.

Every image, object, and living being within a home carries an energy that subtly influences
our thoughts, emotions, and behaviour. Pets are no exception.
It is not the animal itself, but the energy we create around it, that shapes the atmosphere of
our home.
Award-winning writer Dr. T. Selva is the author of the bestsellers Vasthu Sastra Guide
and Secrets of Happy Living. To get a copy, WhatsApp 019-2728464. He can be reached
at drtselvas@gmail.com. Website: www.vasthuguide.com