My Appa taught me
My Appa taught me “Baik Hati “ by his forgiveness. He seldom keeps things in his heart and I am proud to say that I learnt this great quality from him - Love lives by giving and forgiving.
My Appa taught me “Baik Hati “ by his forgiveness. He seldom keeps things in his heart and I am proud to say that I learnt this great quality from him - Love lives by giving and forgiving.
My Appa was very “Berdikari” – very confident and responsible for his actions. I don’t know whether that’s being too careful, but, he taught me how each action needs to have a reaction that I need to be responsible for. And I learnt it from Him.
My Appa is “Hemah Tinggi” personified. Yeah, I know it’s a tough word. It simply means, being simple. His father earned the respect of everyone through his simplicity and friendly nature, and he taught the same to me, through his actions.
My Appa abides by the value of “Hormat Menghormati” – ever respectful to parents, elders, friends and also nature! Still have much to learn from him on this one.
My Appa has a lot of hidden “Kasih Sayang”. He doesn’t openly show affection, but he has love and respect for people around him, family, friends, nature, culture, religion and the nation.
“Keadilan” is also a big thing that My Appa taught me. Looking at the big picture with fairness and equality is a key teaching that My Appa follows and teaches all of us.
“Kebebasan” – this is another tough one to understand. What I could relate to this is the freedom My Appa gave us with the invisible line he drew around it that made us develop into who we are today, while maintaining our values, culture and self respect.
My Appa showed us a lot of amazing examples of “Keberanian”. At work he always stands by his principles and truth and never gives in for any untruth. He also faces challenges – in many forms with a calm composure and great mastery of his emotions. Something that I admire and aspire to have more of in me.
Whether it is “Kebersihan Fizikal” or “Kebersihan Mental” , my Appa is very straight forward when it comes to what he wants to see in us. The positive thoughts that I aspire to have today was the effect of the direction my Appa showed all of us. He tried his best and still is trying to instill this character in us!
“Kejujuran” is always my Appa’s motto. He never goes against truth or righteousness whether at work, home or anywhere else.
Since he started working in the government in Penang, to this day when he is close to retirement, all his achievements are due to his “Kerajinan”. If not for his footsteps, we may not be who we are today.
Since he started working in the government in Penang, to this day when he is close to retirement, all his achievements are due to his “Kerajinan”. If not for his footsteps, we may not be who we are today.
With all his social work, My Appa fosters and promotes “Kerjasama” – working together towards a goal to achieve excellence in spiritual and mental growth for ourselves and for others who need help.
There were many other discreet lessons My Appa thought, one of it being, “Kesederhanaan”. He never bought for us material things in excess. In fact I remember clearly one incident when my uncle came over and offered us a box of chocolates, my brother and I (we were 7 and 4) took just one piece and closed the box. That was the extent to which moderation was instilled in us. I still carry this value heavily in my life much to the dismay of people around me, possibly now my son too!
Looking back is not always a bad thing. In fact I firmly believe looking back teaches us many lessons. My Appa taught us “Kesyukuran” or being grateful for what nature and God has given us. I realized how true this was when I was reading about the Law of Attraction and the power of being grateful. My Appa knew it back then; he always reminded us with his key phrase: “Think of the kids in Ethiopia”.
My left brained decision making skills are definitely from my Appa’s “Rasional” qualities. He normally speaks out his thoughts, explaining slowly, in a systematic manner and putting it down on paper until he gets to the conclusion. Well, most of the time he will be right.
Although not heavily involved in his neighbourhood watch in the 80s, my Appa carries the value of “Semangat Bermasyarakat” close to his heart. With all the community projects that he does, he shows us how important and interdependent all of us are with each other.
Although not heavily involved in his neighbourhood watch in the 80s, my Appa carries the value of “Semangat Bermasyarakat” close to his heart. With all the community projects that he does, he shows us how important and interdependent all of us are with each other.
I wish I can be a great father like who my Appa was to us and one day I wish Sai Anish will write such nice things about me.
But then again, my Appa taught me Kesederhanaan and Kesyukuran so I should focus on the present and be grateful for what God has blessed us with!
Thank you Appa for all your guidance!
MY FATHER, MY IDOL
After eight years, many temple visits and prayers, the child was born. He was the blessing of Lord Shiva, and was named after the Lord himself - Markandan. He was born in Jalan Seratus Tahun, the "hundred years’ road" and it became everyone's wish that he lives up to the road name. This article is about him.
As a young child, Markandan a.k.a Dorai, often spent his time in the small room in the Shiva Temple in Penang where his father was head priest. Dorai’s childhood and adolescence enjoyed a lot of freedom, unlike the children of today who are spoon-fed. He had to take care of a lot of things himself, including being at home on time for lunch and dinner. His daily allowance for school was about five cents, and anything extra he desired was only acquired by saving from this allowance.
He also took care of his studies by himself; tuitions and extra classes were luxuries never heard of then.
MY FATHER, MY IDOL
After eight years, many temple visits and prayers, the child was born. He was the blessing of Lord Shiva, and was named after the Lord himself - Markandan. He was born in Jalan Seratus Tahun, the "hundred years’ road" and it became everyone's wish that he lives up to the road name. This article is about him.
As a young child, Markandan a.k.a Dorai, often spent his time in the small room in the Shiva Temple in Penang where his father was head priest. Dorai’s childhood and adolescence enjoyed a lot of freedom, unlike the children of today who are spoon-fed. He had to take care of a lot of things himself, including being at home on time for lunch and dinner. His daily allowance for school was about five cents, and anything extra he desired was only acquired by saving from this allowance.
He also took care of his studies by himself; tuitions and extra classes were luxuries never heard of then.
He often played badminton with his neighbourhood friends like Velu, using wooden racquets and used-shuttlecocks, right next to his small room. When it was his study time, Dorai always knew how to prioritise. He will be sitting in the room with his books, being distracted now and again by the sound of Velu’s smashes. There was a small window in that room through which Dorai often watched his friends play, and in that process his character was built by the battles with temptation to join them.
My father was my tuition teacher till I was 15. My dad mastered the techniques of teaching my brother and I, correlating family members to solve mathematics, using twigs in the padang to practice the letters of the alphabet.
When I was 13, all my Indian friends enrolled in Sri Murugan Centre. It was free tuition provided to Indian students to improve education amongst the race. The teachers were all top educators from the country and often provided rigorous lessons and tips for exams like PMR and SPM. I felt my father should know this, and he would definitely want me to go and study more. When I told him, his response was simple, “You are already going to school five days a week, use the weekends to play.” I boasted to all my friends the next day, I had the coolest dad ever.
He sent me for badminton training on Sundays, but he was my first badminton trainer with nets from our toilet window and the fence of the opposite house on our back lane. After the ’92 Thomas Cup victory, we bought paint and drew lines to improve our own private court. He also always rushed to my school after work, to watch me train hockey. He relentlessly supported my sporting endeavour, although the racquets, sticks, boots, pads, socks, shorts, trainers and jerseys caused some damage to his pocket. When I wanted to quit badminton training in Form 5, he was genuinely disappointed. Such was his interest in my sports undertaking.
Growing up in the temple did not influence Dorai into becoming a believer. On the contrary, Dorai never had any inclination towards divinity. He was happy to live his life within the temple but without the Gods. However, Dorai instilled in himself most of the values that even the temple priests lacked. He witnessed with his own eyes the embarrassment of one of the priests who was caught red-handed by his father, stealing money from the temple. The humiliation in the face of the offender, and the anger and disgust on his father’s face left an indelible impression in Dorai.
One day, in the many trips Dorai and his friends made to the local bowling alley which was frequented only by the rich and famous, Velu showed Dorai a Zippo lighter which he had stolen from one of the tables. Dorai was stunned, that his own friend would do such a thing. With that incident, Dorai made a decision to end his friendship with Velu, and to never be involved in these kinds of activities. The conscience of Dorai was too strong, he did not need a religious text to tell him what was right and wrong.
I was five, maybe six. I came back home from Kindergarten one day, with the handkerchief of Ravi, one of my classmates. Ravi was sitting in front of me during story-telling session in class that day, where all of us students sit on the floor listening to the teacher read us a story. His handkerchief was in his back pocket, peering out at me. Till this day I don’t know why, but I instinctively pulled it out and kept it. When I went home, I showed it to my parents – again, I don’t know why! What followed was something I can never erase from my memory. My father, with shock and disbelief apparent on his face, dragged me to the altar. My mom was there too, and they asked me to promise in the name of God to never ever take what is not mine again. After I did that, my father brought me out to the back lane of our house. He burned the handkerchief, and while I watched it burn with tears in my eyes, I swore to myself to never steal again.
Completing his primary education in Pykett Primary School and his secondary at Methodist Boys School, Dorai was an average, quiet student. His parents never knew Dorai could even speak English fluently, and they were shocked one day when they heard him speaking with one of his friends outside the house. Without himself knowing, Dorai was actually a great student, and life had educated him in a wholesame manner which would be evident in many years to come.
Having completed his secondary, Dorai and family moved to India, after the May 13 incident. His father was sure it was not a safe place for his family, and so they all packed their bags and left. Dorai enrolled into a Pre-University College there in Madras, called the New College and everything taught in that college was what Dorai had already learnt in Form Five. He was by far the smartest student in the college.
After his Pre-U, Dorai had not much direction in his next course of action. He had options to study in places like Pollachi, Pachaiyappa and colleges which didn’t sound remotely intelligent. Then, quite casually, he sat for an entrance exam to this university called the Indian Institute of Technology. It was the most prestigious school of engineering in India.
He got it.
My father never missed report card days in my schools. I still remember clearly when I was standard 1. I had no clue how I had done in my exams. I remember my father walking in to greet Mrs.Lim. She handed him the report card, and opening it my father stared at it for a while and laughed out loud. The kind of laughter I am so used to hearing. But I didn’t know why he laughed. Did I do so badly, that it was such a joke? Only when I went home did I realise, I had gotten all As in my first ever exam. And that laughter was that of pride and happiness. I will never forget that day.
When I was in Form 5 in Penang Free School, my father got a transfer to his headquarters in Kuala Lumpur. For six months, he tirelessly travelled every weekend to and from KL and Penang just make sure my mom and I were doing okay. He never once asked me to pack up and find another school in KL. He knew that my friends back home and the schooling cannot be interrupted, and I am sure it was such a hassle for him. My attitude as a 17 year old didn’t help either. My mother always had complaints about me to him when he came back. In retrospect now, that was so much of burden to handle – new job promotion, new home to start in KL, one son in Johor, one more in Penang driving his mom up the wall. But never once did I see my dad break down or get angry. He handled it like an expert, that he always is.
IIT, the collection point of the crème de la crème of India opened up a whole new chapter in Dorai’s life. Chapters of fun, laughter, education, knowledge and exciting adventures. Even over 30 years after his graduation, Dorai would exclaim that IIT was the best time of his life. There are just uncountable stories that he relates about his university life, from the canteen food (the best fried rice and kuruma he has eaten) to the open-air movie screenings, from the craze of Beatles to the books he has read, and discussions with his extremely intelligent friends like Ashok and Prakash. His room in University, with the low bed (the bed’s legs sawed off) and red curtains, was the meeting point for all his friends to chill-out, and even, occasionally, study. His 5 years in IIT made Dorai realise the value of education, and the power of intelligence. He graduated with first class honours in Civil Engineering in 1978 with the promise to his friends that no matter what happened, in 20 years, they would all meet again to go around the world together.
My undergraduate life was fun; too much fun, actually. It was my most reckless years, with dwindling morals and false sense of ability, pride, and mistaken identity.
I come back home from Melaka, in 2006, four years into my Engineering degree. My father is sitting in the hall, eating his favourite peanuts, watching a Tamil show on the telly with my mother. I steady my trembling hands, holding a piece of paper where I had drawn out a plan. A plan on how I will complete my degree with a one-year extension.
I approach them, mustering up some confidence and rehearsing the usual excuses. “They are not offering the subjects I need. My termination is just a formality. With this plan, I can improve my CGPA.” As I went on, I felt more embarrassment, and I saw deep disappointment in his face. It is a look I never want to see again, my father being disappointed with me. I ended by saying I plan to work part time, so that I can pay for the additional year of my education. His answer, again, was short, simple and clear, “You worry about passing your papers, I will worry about the money.”
In the mid-80s when I was born, my father’s financial situation was not too good. He always told the story of how he had to “scrape the bottom of the barrel” to run the family at one point. As an engineer, he had to move us to a flat where his lower subordinates stayed. We even visited this place in our last Penang trip.
I never felt any embarrassment or disgust when I saw it. In fact, my respect and esteem for him grew. The saying comes to mind – A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.
Those experiences with finances shaped what my father always taught my brother and I - The value of money, and the importance of being careful in its use. His own father was a role-model for him, owning no possessions for himself but for a simple shirt and veshti. My father was similar and still is, even now shopping at cheap outlets and buying only what is absolutely necessary. His biggest expenses has always been on his wife and two sons.
There are so many more incidences, recollections, memories of his childhood, adolescence, adulthood and family life that can be evidence of the man’s greatness. But words just fail to encapsulate the value of my father in my life, and the perfection which defines his. Now he is a very happy grandfather; little Anish has brought a new chapter into my father’s life – as a loving, doting, spoiling grandfather. It is evidence that a man who lives an honest, righteous and honourable life, will receive all the blessings of happiness and contentment.
I wish my dad a Happy Father’s Day. It has been long that you replaced Eric Cantona as my ultimate idol. And my life will always be a reflection of your stories, values, and upbringing.
My father was my tuition teacher till I was 15. My dad mastered the techniques of teaching my brother and I, correlating family members to solve mathematics, using twigs in the padang to practice the letters of the alphabet.
When I was 13, all my Indian friends enrolled in Sri Murugan Centre. It was free tuition provided to Indian students to improve education amongst the race. The teachers were all top educators from the country and often provided rigorous lessons and tips for exams like PMR and SPM. I felt my father should know this, and he would definitely want me to go and study more. When I told him, his response was simple, “You are already going to school five days a week, use the weekends to play.” I boasted to all my friends the next day, I had the coolest dad ever.
He sent me for badminton training on Sundays, but he was my first badminton trainer with nets from our toilet window and the fence of the opposite house on our back lane. After the ’92 Thomas Cup victory, we bought paint and drew lines to improve our own private court. He also always rushed to my school after work, to watch me train hockey. He relentlessly supported my sporting endeavour, although the racquets, sticks, boots, pads, socks, shorts, trainers and jerseys caused some damage to his pocket. When I wanted to quit badminton training in Form 5, he was genuinely disappointed. Such was his interest in my sports undertaking.
Growing up in the temple did not influence Dorai into becoming a believer. On the contrary, Dorai never had any inclination towards divinity. He was happy to live his life within the temple but without the Gods. However, Dorai instilled in himself most of the values that even the temple priests lacked. He witnessed with his own eyes the embarrassment of one of the priests who was caught red-handed by his father, stealing money from the temple. The humiliation in the face of the offender, and the anger and disgust on his father’s face left an indelible impression in Dorai.
One day, in the many trips Dorai and his friends made to the local bowling alley which was frequented only by the rich and famous, Velu showed Dorai a Zippo lighter which he had stolen from one of the tables. Dorai was stunned, that his own friend would do such a thing. With that incident, Dorai made a decision to end his friendship with Velu, and to never be involved in these kinds of activities. The conscience of Dorai was too strong, he did not need a religious text to tell him what was right and wrong.
I was five, maybe six. I came back home from Kindergarten one day, with the handkerchief of Ravi, one of my classmates. Ravi was sitting in front of me during story-telling session in class that day, where all of us students sit on the floor listening to the teacher read us a story. His handkerchief was in his back pocket, peering out at me. Till this day I don’t know why, but I instinctively pulled it out and kept it. When I went home, I showed it to my parents – again, I don’t know why! What followed was something I can never erase from my memory. My father, with shock and disbelief apparent on his face, dragged me to the altar. My mom was there too, and they asked me to promise in the name of God to never ever take what is not mine again. After I did that, my father brought me out to the back lane of our house. He burned the handkerchief, and while I watched it burn with tears in my eyes, I swore to myself to never steal again.
Completing his primary education in Pykett Primary School and his secondary at Methodist Boys School, Dorai was an average, quiet student. His parents never knew Dorai could even speak English fluently, and they were shocked one day when they heard him speaking with one of his friends outside the house. Without himself knowing, Dorai was actually a great student, and life had educated him in a wholesame manner which would be evident in many years to come.
Having completed his secondary, Dorai and family moved to India, after the May 13 incident. His father was sure it was not a safe place for his family, and so they all packed their bags and left. Dorai enrolled into a Pre-University College there in Madras, called the New College and everything taught in that college was what Dorai had already learnt in Form Five. He was by far the smartest student in the college.
After his Pre-U, Dorai had not much direction in his next course of action. He had options to study in places like Pollachi, Pachaiyappa and colleges which didn’t sound remotely intelligent. Then, quite casually, he sat for an entrance exam to this university called the Indian Institute of Technology. It was the most prestigious school of engineering in India.
He got it.
My father never missed report card days in my schools. I still remember clearly when I was standard 1. I had no clue how I had done in my exams. I remember my father walking in to greet Mrs.Lim. She handed him the report card, and opening it my father stared at it for a while and laughed out loud. The kind of laughter I am so used to hearing. But I didn’t know why he laughed. Did I do so badly, that it was such a joke? Only when I went home did I realise, I had gotten all As in my first ever exam. And that laughter was that of pride and happiness. I will never forget that day.
When I was in Form 5 in Penang Free School, my father got a transfer to his headquarters in Kuala Lumpur. For six months, he tirelessly travelled every weekend to and from KL and Penang just make sure my mom and I were doing okay. He never once asked me to pack up and find another school in KL. He knew that my friends back home and the schooling cannot be interrupted, and I am sure it was such a hassle for him. My attitude as a 17 year old didn’t help either. My mother always had complaints about me to him when he came back. In retrospect now, that was so much of burden to handle – new job promotion, new home to start in KL, one son in Johor, one more in Penang driving his mom up the wall. But never once did I see my dad break down or get angry. He handled it like an expert, that he always is.
IIT, the collection point of the crème de la crème of India opened up a whole new chapter in Dorai’s life. Chapters of fun, laughter, education, knowledge and exciting adventures. Even over 30 years after his graduation, Dorai would exclaim that IIT was the best time of his life. There are just uncountable stories that he relates about his university life, from the canteen food (the best fried rice and kuruma he has eaten) to the open-air movie screenings, from the craze of Beatles to the books he has read, and discussions with his extremely intelligent friends like Ashok and Prakash. His room in University, with the low bed (the bed’s legs sawed off) and red curtains, was the meeting point for all his friends to chill-out, and even, occasionally, study. His 5 years in IIT made Dorai realise the value of education, and the power of intelligence. He graduated with first class honours in Civil Engineering in 1978 with the promise to his friends that no matter what happened, in 20 years, they would all meet again to go around the world together.
My undergraduate life was fun; too much fun, actually. It was my most reckless years, with dwindling morals and false sense of ability, pride, and mistaken identity.
I come back home from Melaka, in 2006, four years into my Engineering degree. My father is sitting in the hall, eating his favourite peanuts, watching a Tamil show on the telly with my mother. I steady my trembling hands, holding a piece of paper where I had drawn out a plan. A plan on how I will complete my degree with a one-year extension.
I approach them, mustering up some confidence and rehearsing the usual excuses. “They are not offering the subjects I need. My termination is just a formality. With this plan, I can improve my CGPA.” As I went on, I felt more embarrassment, and I saw deep disappointment in his face. It is a look I never want to see again, my father being disappointed with me. I ended by saying I plan to work part time, so that I can pay for the additional year of my education. His answer, again, was short, simple and clear, “You worry about passing your papers, I will worry about the money.”
In the mid-80s when I was born, my father’s financial situation was not too good. He always told the story of how he had to “scrape the bottom of the barrel” to run the family at one point. As an engineer, he had to move us to a flat where his lower subordinates stayed. We even visited this place in our last Penang trip.
I never felt any embarrassment or disgust when I saw it. In fact, my respect and esteem for him grew. The saying comes to mind – A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.
Those experiences with finances shaped what my father always taught my brother and I - The value of money, and the importance of being careful in its use. His own father was a role-model for him, owning no possessions for himself but for a simple shirt and veshti. My father was similar and still is, even now shopping at cheap outlets and buying only what is absolutely necessary. His biggest expenses has always been on his wife and two sons.
There are so many more incidences, recollections, memories of his childhood, adolescence, adulthood and family life that can be evidence of the man’s greatness. But words just fail to encapsulate the value of my father in my life, and the perfection which defines his. Now he is a very happy grandfather; little Anish has brought a new chapter into my father’s life – as a loving, doting, spoiling grandfather. It is evidence that a man who lives an honest, righteous and honourable life, will receive all the blessings of happiness and contentment.
I wish my dad a Happy Father’s Day. It has been long that you replaced Eric Cantona as my ultimate idol. And my life will always be a reflection of your stories, values, and upbringing.
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