My late brother's wedding dinner reception was on Christmas Day, and my son had just turned two. I had just returned home from work in Langkawi the day before. We celebrated until late night with a karaoke session and turned in very late at the hotel in Subang Jaya. I remember waking up briefly at 10am because I felt a tremor but thought nothing of it and continued sleeping for another hour before checking out at noon to attend my cousin's wedding in Kajang. Unbeknownst to millions who would be affected that day, a destructive wall of water was about to hit them.
I went home after the wedding and watched a movie, oblivious to the chaos that the tremor I had shrugged off has caused until an SMS from a colleague jolted me, asking me if I was still in Langkawi. When I asked him why, he simply replied, "A tsunami had hit Langkawi. Watch BBC now!"
I switched channels to BBC and stared at the breaking news in disbelief. Then I remembered I had left a technician at one of the resorts in Langkawi and frantically tried to reach him on the phone but to no avail. I called another colleague who was in Langkawi and was told of the carnage the tsunami had left. We both contacted the technician's wife only to be told by his wife that he had not checked in to inform of his condition. I then tasked my Langkawi colleague to check with the Langkawi Hospital.
The next 18 hours was nerve-wracking as the technician was nowhere to be found, neither at the hospital nor at any of the relief centres set up in Langkawi. SMS messages to him went unanswered. We feared for the worse, and I began to ignore most of the calls from his wife and family.
Then, early next morning, came his reply: "Sorry boss saya baru masuk Bukit (Kayu Hitam) dari Hatyai (Sorry boss I have just entered Bukit Kayu Hitam from Hatyai)." He had gone to spend a “weekend” across the border after I left for Kuala Lumpur on Christmas Eve and had turned his mobile phone off.
You can imagine the stream of expletives that greeted him in my reply. I was fuming mad but felt relieved at the same time that he was safe and sound.