It was a rainy Saturday afternoon in a HDB flat in Singapore.
Ryan burst through the door, shaking water off his shoes.
Ryan: Wah, today’s rain really next level. I’m opening my umbrella to dry it.
Mei Ling: EH! Don’t! Don’t open it inside!
Ryan: Why not? The whole corridor already flooded.
Mei Ling: You cannot open umbrella indoors. Bad luck will enter the house.
Ryan: Enter the house? Like it’s waiting outside with a suitcase?
Mei Ling: Don’t joke. My grandmother always said this. If you open umbrella inside, you invite misfortune. Last time my cousin did that, two days later he failed his driving test.
Ryan: Mei Ling… he failed because he mounted the kerb at the parallel parking station, not because of the umbrella.
Mei Ling: You don’t know that.
Ryan: I’m quite sure the examiner didn’t mark, “Candidate cursed by indoor umbrella.”
Mei Ling folded her arms.
Mei Ling: Some things you cannot measure with science.
Ryan: Actually… we can measure a lot with science. That’s the whole point. Show me one controlled study where indoor umbrellas caused bad luck.
Mei Ling: You and your studies. Not everything got journal paper.
Ryan: True. But think about it. Where did this belief even come from?
Mei Ling: Ancient tradition.
Ryan: Okay, but historically, umbrellas had sharp metal spokes and spring mechanisms. In small houses with low ceilings—like old kampong homes—if you suddenly opened one indoors, you could poke someone’s eye or break something. So people said, “Don’t open it indoors.” Easier than explaining mechanical hazards.
Mei Ling: So you’re saying it’s just safety advice?
Ryan: Most likely. Same as “don’t run with scissors.” No mystical curse, just physics.
Mei Ling: But what about the bad luck stories?
Ryan: Confirmation bias.
Mei Ling: Big word again.
Ryan: Means we remember the times something bad happened after opening an umbrella… and we forget the hundreds of times nothing happened.
Mei Ling: Hmm.
Ryan gently popped the umbrella halfway open.
Mei Ling: EH EH EH!
Ryan: Relax. Observe. We are conducting an experiment.
Mei Ling: Later my Shopee parcel go missing then you know.
Ryan: If your Shopee parcel goes missing, it’s because the delivery uncle left it at the wrong block, not because cosmic forces entered through polyester fabric.
Mei Ling tried not to laugh.
Mei Ling: You very confident ah.
Ryan: Think about it. Millions of people in condos, HDBs, offices in Singapore open umbrellas indoors to dry them. If bad luck was real, our whole country would collapse already.
Mei Ling: Maybe that’s why MRT always breakdown.
Ryan: Please. Don’t blame SMRT on umbrellas.
They both laughed.
Mei Ling: But honestly, I feel uncomfortable when you open it inside. Like something wrong.
Ryan: That feeling is real. But the cause is cultural conditioning, not supernatural energy.
Mei Ling: So you’re saying my grandma wrong?
Ryan: No. I’m saying her explanation might be symbolic. Traditions sometimes encode practical advice in dramatic language. “Bad luck” is more memorable than “risk of minor indoor accidents.”
Mei Ling thought for a moment.
Mei Ling: Actually last year I opened umbrella inside my office because aircon was leaking. Nothing happened.
Ryan: Exactly.
Mei Ling: But I still feel uneasy.
Ryan: That’s okay. Beliefs are emotional, not just logical. I won’t force you. I’ll open it near the window. Compromise?
Mei Ling: Window okay. At least bad luck can escape.
Ryan: You just redesigned the supernatural ventilation system.
Mei Ling: Eh, don’t laugh. Later really got problem.
Ryan: If got problem, we troubleshoot like engineers. Step one: rule out umbrella.
Mei Ling finally smiled.
Mei Ling: You know, sometimes I envy your brain. Everything got explanation.
Ryan: And sometimes I envy your stories. Life more dramatic.
Mei Ling: So what’s the scientific explanation for why my kopi always spill on important days?
Ryan: That one is not bad luck. That one is you walking too fast.
She lightly smacked his arm.
Mei Ling: Fine lah. Open your umbrella. But if tomorrow you step on Lego, don’t blame me.
Ryan: If I step on Lego, I blame gravity and poor floor visibility.
Mei Ling: See? Even your bad luck got equation.
Ryan: Exactly. Physics > fate.
They both looked at the fully opened umbrella drying near the window.
Nothing happened.
Mei Ling: Okay… so far so good.
Ryan: See? No thunder. No lightning. No cursed aura.
Mei Ling: Still… next time, just open outside first.
Ryan: Deal. Science with cultural sensitivity.
They clinked their kopi mugs together as the rain continued outside—
and the only thing entering the house was the smell of wet pavement.
Science Vs Superstition 
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