Life after retirement: Ex-engineer, 62, now a 'plant influencer' who consults for MBS & Jurong Lake Gardens

In the early hours of the morning, when other 62-year-old retirees might still be in bed or nursing a cup of kopi, Yao Shih Lien is chest-deep in a cold condominium pond.

He is not cleaning it. Nor is he going for an unorthodox kind of swim.

He doesn't even live there.

Yao is there for the waterlilies. See below.

If you're not a fan of aquatic plants, you probably haven't heard of him. But within the space, he's Singapore's foremost authority on waterlilies and lotuses.

He's amassed quite a following, with over 24,000 followers on Instagram.

No small feat for a sexagenarian who only started using social media during the Covid-19 pandemic.

His followers call him "Dr Lotus".

Lotuses and waterlilies

When I ask to speak with him, he's quick to suggest a meeting point: A condominium in Bukit Timah, where there's a waterlily pond.

"Morning about 9:30am would be best as the waterlily flowers are the most vibrant," he informs me.

Unfortunately, the day dawns grey and rainy. I'm mildly dismayed, but he is remarkably sanguine about the matter.

"She's just a bit lazy," he tells me of one of the more reticent blooms.

The condo pond is one of the many that Yao has worked on. Whether as a consultant or custodian, he's had his fingers (or knees, rather) in plenty of ponds in Singapore.

Some of which you've probably been to.

Like the iconic waterlily ponds outside the ArtScience Museum, for instance.

Or the cascading ponds at Jurong Lake Gardens.

A hobby gone wild

Yao is quick to inform me that he's not a trained biologist or naturalist by any means.

He was formerly an engineer in the IT industry. It was only when he retired, during Covid-19, that he started spending more time at home.

His garden, once a vague interest, turned into a full-blown obsession. He started posting photos of his waterlilies and lotuses on Facebook and Instagram.

"I don't belong to the social media generation, so [at first] I was like, should I post or not?

But eventually I said, I've taken so many photos... I should just start."

The most curious thing? People began paying attention.

Yao began getting messages from people, asking for advice on their own waterlilies and lotuses.

When his advice worked, word began to spread. Someone asked if they could pay for his services.

"I said, 'I don't want, I don't want to sell'. But I was kind of pushed into it.

So I went from retirement, to picking up this hobby... and then to starting this retirement business."

Working with hands

When I meet Yao, he's joined by a woman, Haslinda. The eloquent, middle-aged woman introduces herself as his "unpaid intern".

I'm a bit bemused, but let it go.

Ten minutes into the conversation, another woman, Kaye, turns up.

Also eloquent, also middle-aged, also a self-professed "intern".

This time, I'm brave enough to ask. They laugh and tell me they're more like volunteers — enthusiastic hobbyists, who're here to learn from Yao.

Together with Yao, they travel to ponds around Singapore, tending to waterlilies and lotuses.

It's chilly, damp, muddy work. And they do it all without earning a cent. (Although they do get a T-shirt.)

Both are busy women, with children, households, and an infinite number of other things to look after.

So how do they find the time for this?

"It's with life. You make the time," Haslinda says simply.

Kaye adds:

"It's something about working with your hands... you slowly nurture something. It's cool in the water... it's therapeutic, with this quietness about it.

It's very rewarding."

Life after retirement

Yao has come a long way since posting photos on Facebook and Instagram.

He and his volunteers have gotten together for workshops, and even take biodiversity trips to Malaysia.

He's written two books — beginners' guides to growing waterlilies and lotuses, both Amazon bestsellers.

Most recently, he's begun contributing research to academic journals.

His latest article, published in the Water Garden Journal, is about the different sizes of ornamental lotus cultivars.

But how did a bored retired engineer become someone who runs workshops and gets published in scientific journals?

It's remarkably simple. Mornings are for plants; afternoons are for rest; evenings are for more plants.

His own garden has grown so much that it threatens to encroach on his driveway. With the spare time of a retiree, he approaches his plants with his "engineering eyes".

"I say, OK, let's test it out," he says. Types of soil, the best kind of pest control, whatever. "Let's hypothesise this, and then let's see whether it works or not... [over] at least one or two life cycles."

And again, and again. "The result doesn't come within weeks," Yao admits.

The community

Waterlily blooms are short-lived.

The flowers only last three to four days. Then it dies, you snip it off, and you wait for the next bud to grow.

Yao is by no means rolling in waterlily-funded opulence. His prices start from S$150 for a two to three-hour session.

But he loves it. Their look, their growth, their life cycle.

He doesn't tell me this part, but I think he loves the community a little, too.

When the interview ends, they wave me goodbye. Kaye, who's a resident in the condo, shows me to the pick-up point.

Then they continue with their conversation, about plants and ponds and perhaps more plants.

Honestly, I'm a little envious. You always hear about how social media has made people more isolated, more withdrawn, more socially inept.

Yet Yao — who's not even a social media native — has used it to build this little community.

As I leave, I eye the pond. It's cold and filled with algae and not particularly inviting.

But maybe, in a different kind of light, I could imagine stepping into it too.