From Kamaruddin Abdullah

I will always share this beautiful story on Malaysia Day, a true story along my long life journey.

I’m a pre-independence Malayan, born in 1949. When I was seven, I became good friends with my neighbour, a boy my age named Maniam. He was the fairest Indian boy in Muar at that time, but that was because Maniam was in fact a Chinese.

When he was still in his mother’s womb, his father passed away. Not long before he was born, his mother married an Indian man named Alagan, whom we all called Aya. So, when he was born, he was named Maniam.

We became so close, exchanging comics and playing games together. When we grew older, we would cycle to town together and watch movies; we even shared the food we ate.

Maniam was so fluent in the Malay language, quite understandable as he grew up among the Malays. He could speak four languages: Tamil, Malay, English and his native Cantonese dialect, the language he would speak with his mother.

After our Form 5 examination in 1967, our friendship faded because I had to move to Kuala Lumpur. Maniam stayed in Muar and continued his studies in Form Six at the Muar High School.

In 1974, I was transferred to Johor Bahru, working with an insurance company. I befriended a lad whose name was James Ho. In spite of his Chinese Christian name, James was dark-skinned, had curly hair and looked so Indian. That was because he was an Indian adopted by a Chinese Christian family.

If any of you are familiar with JB of the 1970s, there was a cinema called The Capitol. This cinema was owned by James’s adopted parents. Like Maniam, James spoke the Malay language so fluently.

A year later, I bumped into Maniam who had stayed in JB, working with the Star newspaper as a journalist. We renewed our friendship and became even closer.

One day as Maniam and I were having our lunch, James passed by. I invited him for lunch and he obliged. Then I introduced James to Maniam. They both were intrigued, looked at each other and smiled.

Who wouldn’t? Here I was with Maniam who looked so Chinese and James who everyone would have thought was an Indian. But, in fact, Maniam is a Chinese and James a true blooded Indian. From then on, our friendships grew.

Sadly, James passed away some time ago. Maniam married a Chinese girl and they later moved to Hong Kong. He became an editor of a well-established local daily using his native name, Wong Joon San. He would come back home quite frequently to visit his mother who now resides in Machap, Johor.

Looking back, my growing years were spent with friends of various races. We knew no boundaries, no race, no creed, and we held each other’s religions and customs in high esteem. We celebrated each other’s festivals, greatly encouraged by our families.

What has happened to such neighbourliness? I don’t seem to see this any more in our society. What has happened to those days when we could drop by our neighbour’s house without needing a reason to be there?

How I wish to see the good values of yesteryear being kept and preserved in perpetuity.

Memories can be painful sometimes, but they become even more so when they remain as just that in our mind – memories.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if our present generation could live the memories that I once experienced.

Happy Malaysia Day.

Kamaruddin Abdullah, better known as Din, was the bassist for the rock band The Grim Preachers.

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.