Because nothing says healthy ageing is like croaking Neil Sedaka at midnight and calling it therapy.
Image from Neil Sedaka’s FB
By Dr Rahim Said
Doctors will tell you to exercise, eat less carbo, and take your magnesium pills. Motivational speakers will tell you to wake up at 5 a.m. to conquer the world. But let me share a secret of my miraculous survival at 78: karaoke.
Yes, while some retirees walk in the park or knit sweaters, I belt out Neil Sedaka’s “You are the answer to my lonely prayer” like it’s a medical prescription. P. Ramlee’s Getaran Jiwa? My vitamin C. And Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Love Changes Everything? That’s my group therapy session with diehard crooners who think hitting high notes equals eternal youth.
Of course, it’s never just me. There’s Tina, who commutes between three countries but somehow finds time to lure us into her karaoke lounges in Bali, Singapore, or KL.
Then there’s Ram, with her angelic voice and Japanese tatami karaoke room, who convinces us that crooning badly is still a noble art form.
Occasionally, our West End opera singer from Perth drops by, making the rest of us sound like broken radios—but hey, we clap anyway.
My wife Azi humours me, though my children wisely keep their distance from this weekly circus. Who can blame them? Nobody wants to see their dad pretending he’s Sedaka while forgetting half the lyrics.
But here’s the catch: karaoke is not just singing. It’s therapy disguised as noise pollution. After a week of writing cynical columns, arguing politics at the mosque, and pretending to fast from carbs (well, at least 12 hours overnight), this is how I unwind. Cheaper than therapy, louder than prayer, and probably as effective as any magnesium tablet.
So, if you’re looking for the secret to longevity, don’t bother with green smoothies or yoga mats. Just grab a microphone, a dodgy backing track, and a forgiving audience.
Trust me — your blood pressure may not improve, but your stress levels will evaporate faster than you can say Selamat Malam Kuala Lumpur.
WE