Merdeka

The man is Tunku Abdul Rahman, our first prime minister. The girl is my beloved mum, Tunku Khadijah. The year is 1940. Father and daughter are very close; ...

A happy Merdeka and Malaysia Day to all of my fellow Malaysians. Every time we went to the hospital for her treatment, she would think of her nurses, and always bring them gifts of cakes and food. A friend of his once explained the Tunku’s equine bond by saying that horses, just like people, respond to kindness, a trait that Tunku had in abundance. For Tunku Abdul Rahman and his daughter, Tunku Khadijah, love for the common man was a thread that bound their lives together. And although she is no longer with us, my love for her will remain forever in my heart. Even her security guard came crying to us, on the day after she passed, wondering where she was — she had left, and didn’t return. That is the only meaning I know, and that will be my guide and inspiration as a leader.” She once wrote: “Every evening, I derive satisfaction from feeding and stroking the horses. She was always there; in every photo, on every holiday, and most of all, in my memories. Her birthday wish was to donate to Tasputra Perkim, a charity set up by her father, the Tunku, for special needs children. My mother once wrote: “Although I did not follow my father’s footsteps as far as politics was concerned, some part of him lives on in me. Once safely inside, her father pats her head affectionately and tells her what a good girl she is.