THE world of humankind is divided into those who dream of being independent and those who are independent of dreams.
My invisible muse made this utterly strange and bald statement many moons ago upon seeing a frail flag on a car. Doubtless, Hobbes was rephrasing a Sunday Times review of Tolkien’s monumental labour. I did not understand, yet I did not ask him.
But years later, today, the answer to his riddle may have come on the wings of an old friendship in the realm of Jenaris.
I am with Haji Ali, a Chennai-born gentleman I have known for 12 years, but of whom I know too little.
It is a quiet afternoon in his restaurant just after the Friday prayers. There are only three other customers, all at one table, and all wielding forks and spoons and weaving mee and peanut sauce and tauhu in a tapestry quite wonderful to watch.
I avert my gaze and thoughts from them as Ali says something in answer to my question.
“My ‘merdeka’ (independence) began with one roti canai, and now, look at me and this place,” his head turns and eyes sweep proudly across his domain, Naina Maju, even as his hands fasten a Jalur Gemilang to a pole.
Moments earlier, I had walked into the shop, and upon seeing him reverently unfold the flag, I let out a whoop and said, “Wah, boss. You ada semangat Merdeka”. (Boss, you have the Merdeka spirit.) That remark must have pleased him immeasurably, for he flashed a delightful toothy grin and began a conversation on the virtues of independence and hard work.
“I love this country. It has given me so much,” came the preamble from the 57-year-old grandfather.
He is a man of gentle manners in all tasks except work. When business is soaring with wave after wave of customers, then do you see him sailing unceasingly as would a master of the seas from one end to the other, bearing a cargo of food and drink and bellowing orders faster than you can think.
Today, for the first time, I ask him about his life in this country, and he tells me his story as if it happened only yesterday.
“My father brought me to Malaysia in 1965 when I was 6. The two of us lived on the second floor of a shophouse. He worked in a restaurant below.
“Growing up in Teluk Intan was fun. I didn’t know Malay and English, but very slowly, I learnt them.
“Then my father died in 1973, when I was 14. Everything turned topsy-turvy. What to do? I had to drop out of school. I worked in the same restaurant. It was very, very hard. I worked and I slept. There was little else.”
Now, his words do not come as short or as easy as I write them. His lips quiver and his voice trembles. He looks down and clasps his hands tightly. I see tears forming and sense a shadow falling across his face.
I have to shake him out of the despondency. “What did you do then?”
Ali looks up. He tells me that he went on to work in Tapah, Mantin, Semenyih and Kajang for 27 long years. The money was sometimes good, many times a pittance, but there was one constant — the labour was unceasing and the troubles many.
But it was also his dream to become independent, to have his own enterprise. So he carried all the burdens and endured all the pain.
“Looking back, I am glad my father brought me to Malaysia. He was already a citizen of this country, and he could have left me in Chennai, but he didn’t.
“I had my ups and downs along the way. Actually, it was very difficult most of the time. There were so many issues — family, money, workers, sickness. You know, I have been a diabetic for 17 years.
“Now I am my own boss. Many of the problems are still there, but I am so grateful for the opportunity to be what I want to be in this country.”
He opens a drawer and pulls out a smartphone, and after a moment, shows me a picture of his family.
“In Malaysia, I was able to grow from nothing to this. I really hope it will always be like this here, where people can come up in life with hard work, even if they fail a few times along the way. It’s not about becoming rich, but about having a fulfilling life.”
Aha, Hobbes. Now I think I understand.
The writer, David Christy, has been with NST for 20 years, and possesses a keen interest in history.