Heads tilted skyward as dust rose from the track. The helicopter door swung open and out stepped Miss World 1982, Mariasela Alvarez Lebron, sash gleaming in the sun.

Cameras snapped. Reporters surged. The mood lifted in an instant.

Standing nearby, immaculately dressed and quietly pleased, was the man who had made it happen.

V Jeyaratnam, Malaysia’s “Mr Charity”, was not chasing spectacle for its own sake.

He was chasing donations. He was drawing attention that could be turned into wheelchairs, therapy sessions and second chances.

That moment captured the pattern of his life. Find the spotlight. Use it briefly. Then move it firmly onto those who need help.

Today, Jeyaratnam turns 101. His family is marking the occasion with a small gathering rather than a grand celebration.

His health has faded, but the life behind him, lived at full gallop for others, remains expansive.

Few Malaysians have lived with such breadth, or used influence so deliberately in the service of others.

From courtrooms to turf tracks, from pageant stages to modest rehabilitation centres, his mission to help people stand again never shifted.

Roots of a calling

Jeyaratnam was born the son of a hospital assistant who had come from Ceylon, now Sri Lanka. As a boy growing up in Ipoh, he watched his father quietly help those who could not help themselves.

That example stayed with him.

At Anderson School, he became known for small kindnesses. If a classmate could not afford food, Jeyaratnam would step in.

He never dressed it up as charity. It was simply what one did.

Law was not his first ambition. By his own admission, he drifted.

Then one day he sat in court and watched the celebrated lawyer RPS Rajasooria dismantle a case with precision and grace. The effect was immediate.

He saw law not as status, but as leverage.

Jeyaratnam read law at London University and was called to the Bar at Lincoln’s Inn. On his return to Malaya, he joined Cheang Lee & Ong as a junior.

Criminal law was not popular and the firm had no specialist. Jeyaratnam volunteered as he wanted to stand beside people no one else wanted.

A lawyer for the outcast

The case that made his name was the defence of communist Chai Kang. The stakes could not have been higher: the hangman’s noose hovered, metaphorically and otherwise.

Jeyaratnam’s advocacy saved the man’s life. It marked the beginning of a career shaped by conviction and compassion.

For six decades, he practised law. Many of his clients were poor. Others were shunned. Some could not pay at all. He defended them anyway.

He did not romanticise crime. He believed judgment belonged to the courts, not to prejudice.

“Man is innately good,” he often said. It was not a slogan. It was a working belief that carried him far beyond the courtroom.

Charity that began at home

As president of the Discharged Prisoners Aid Society, Jeyaratnam refused to limit help to paperwork and small grants.

He invited ex-inmates into his own home until they found work and stability.

The decision drew criticism. Some worried about the safety of his family. Others questioned his judgement.

His wife, the late Dr Rajamalar Thiagarajah, stood firmly beside him. Together, they turned compassion into daily practice.

“He didn’t just talk about second chances,” said his daughter, Kanna. “He lived them, even when it made people uncomfortable.”

Building a legacy in rehabilitation

If one cause defined Jeyaratnam’s public life, it was his work with people with disabilities.

In 1982, he helped found Yayasan Sultan Idris Shah, now known as Yayasan Ipoh. It began in a dilapidated daycare centre with just four clients.

Two visiting Australian therapists introduced community-based rehabilitation, then new to Perak. It was practical. It worked.

The spark had come earlier. At a function, Jeyaratnam watched a disabled person struggle painfully up a stage to receive an award.

The image stayed with him. He decided then that dignity mattered more than ceremony.

Under his leadership, the foundation grew into one of Malaysia’s most respected donor-funded charities. Its 11 rehabilitation centres have served more than 20,000 people, most of them children.

Raising the money took imagination. Jeyaratnam understood attention. He knew horse racing and pageants attracted wealth.

Beauty contests, celebrity visits, charity football matches and walkathons became fundraising engines.

None were accidental. Each was designed to convert glamour into care.

“It was never about the show,” Kanna said. “It was about what the show made possible after the cameras were gone.”

Reinventing the Perak Turf Club

Horse racing entered Jeyaratnam’s life when his boss, Yeoh Cheang Lee, chairman of the Perak Turf Club, appointed him to the committee.

He served for 14 years before becoming acting chairman in 1981 and chairman in 1982.

He would remain at the helm for more than three decades, the longest-serving turf club chairman in Malaysia.

When he took charge, the club was respected but conventional. Jeyaratnam widened its ambition.

Racing, he believed, could drive tourism, prestige and public good.

He revived sponsored races, attracted international names such as Caesar’s Palace of Las Vegas and Aspinall’s of London, and inaugurated the Coronation Cup in honour of Sultan Azlan Shah.

Under his stewardship, the club’s donations helped beautify Ipoh. Fountains, gardens and a musical clock became civic landmarks. Sports facilities were built. The underprivileged were supported.

Racing, for Jeyaratnam, was never just about betting slips. It was about what an institution could return to the community.

Glamour with a mission

His eight years as organising chairman of the Miss Malaysia and Miss World pageants drew international attention to Malaysia.

Critics dismissed the events as frivolous. Jeyaratnam disagreed.

“It’s not a cattle show,” he once said. “The little time our representative spends on stage gives the country exposure in tourism.”

In 1986, he became the first Asian judge at the Miss World pageant in London. The honour mattered less than the access it provided.

Each contact became a potential donor. Each visit, an opportunity to raise funds for rehabilitation.

Former journalist Jerry Francis summed it up: “He thrust Malaysia onto the world stage in unexpected ways, but always with the intention of lifting someone else up.”

A man of breadth and depth

Those who knew Jeyaratnam describe a man both generous and exacting. He loved elegance. He valued hard work. He gave freely, but expected accountability.

His compassion did not stop with people. Jeyaratnam also quietly supported the rescue of abandoned cats and dogs, giving time and funds to causes that offered no recognition and asked nothing in return.

He was not a man of great personal wealth. “I have enough for my needs and my family’s needs,” he once said. “What matters is what you do with what you have.”

Even after a heart attack, and as his health declined, he continued taking calls from people seeking help.

“Dad never learned how to switch off,” Kanna said. “If someone needed help, he felt responsible.”

Reflecting on his life, Jeyaratnam remains characteristically modest.

“I’ve been blessed to have lived life to the full,” he said. “I hope my legacy will continue to inspire future generations to always help those less fortunate in the community.”

The quieter image

As his family gathers to mark his 101st birthday, there will be no helicopter, no sash, no crowd.

That feels fitting.

Jeyaratnam has two daughters, a son and two grandchildren. For them, and for thousands of others, his legacy is already secure.

It is not found only in buildings, races or events. It lives in children given independence, in former inmates given dignity, and in the unfashionable belief that society is judged by how it treats those who cannot repay it.

At 101, that belief stands intact.

Tan Sri Jeyaratnam proved that service, not glory, is the true prize.