Beauty on a mission

Anjhula Mya Singh Bais is set to break conformity and shatter myths surrounding mental illness and psychology, writes

Anjhula lives around the corner from our meeting place, and she’s arrived alone; immediately, the “ease” with which everyone greets her is apparent. She’s clad in a flowing kebaya — which she carries off with aplomb. She’s immediately chatty and tactile, disarming everyone with her air of utter normality.

“You must explore your own city!” she tells me by way of greeting. “Do you know that the Majestic Hotel screens black and white movies on a loop that you can watch for free?” No, I didn’t know. “There’s this list I give to my clients. Fall in love with your city. It’s a form of self-care. There’s always something to discover, just when you think you know everything,” she exclaims.

On the chair next to me is the consummate professional — sitting perfectly upright — and a woman who had just serenely but firmly shaken my hand. And yes, here we are, conducting a meticulously planned chat (or at least attempting to), no time for faffing about. But if we had all day (and we really don’t; she keeps a tight schedule) I would wager that Anjhula would talk nonstop about her adopted city here in Malaysia.

Something told her to take a walk through the city after work one day, (“A voice!” she gasps and then laughs, adding: “You’re probably thinking I’m schizophrenic!”) and as she wove through the streets, she found herself walking through Petaling Street. “I had dinner on my way home at this restaurant which used to be a brothel!” she recounts with a satisfied sigh. “It was such an amazing four hours of discovering Kuala Lumpur. I got my 10,000 steps and it was lovely.” I perk up at the mention of schizophrenia and brothels. “This conversation is already derailing!” she says archly. “I love the words you’re picking up here. Not self-care, not exercise. but really, brothels and schizophrenia?”

The mood turns convivial and as we talk, she’s articulate, contemplative and full of mischievous wit. I confess I know next to nothing about psychology and she retorts, tongue-in-cheek: “Neither did my parents. They were aghast when I dropped out of medical school to pursue psychology!” All at once, dropping her Mid-Atlantic lilt, she puts on a strong Indian accent, declaring in mock-horror: “Arreyy yaarr, vaat is this?!” before laughing heartily.

For many, psychologists in society are at a foreign and almost mystical status. We don’t regularly go to one like we