IN this winter of great human suffering, do you believe there is a God?
But it is still ‘autumn’ in Jenaris, Kajang. The little leaves bid farewell to their bough, wrested from a nourishing bond by the monsoon gale.
They twirl and twist in the invisible arms of the pallbearer-wind until the ground and doom they embrace.
Sorrowful is their dying cry.
Winter or autumn, true it is there are many “dying leaf” moments in the world. There are a galaxy of reasons to feel wretched. Need I tell you what they are?
But it is also true that it is only in the curtain of Earth’s darkness the starry host unveil their glory and light up the cosmos.
They are lighthouses in the infinite blackness, an enduring sea of hope in the bitterest gloom of human affairs.
Blessed are we that there are people who illuminate as stars do.
They are not celebrities nor politicians for whom public adulation is oxygen. They are the ‘imperfect’ Everywoman and Everyman.
Two of them are Terrence K.K. Sinnadurai and his wife Kamala.
More than 20 years have I known them, but their tale goes back even longer.
You see, two score years ago, Sinnadurai “received a vision”. He accepted and adopted it as his life’s (and Kamala’s too) mission.
It had to do with the fate of children whose parents had died or were drowning in poverty. The blight on the human race existed then; it still does now.
Sinnadurai and Kamala birthed a shelter to care for these children. Rumah Faith they called it.
For 35 years, an eternity in the era of relentless capitalism and change, they loved and nurtured hundreds of boys and girls.
Many of the little ones came to them with little to nothing, nary a wisp of hope.
Now a great number of them are grown-up, married and with children of their own. They are able to chart their own course through the inevitable valleys and peaks of life.
The couple’s journey was and is not without trouble and thrill. Some came from within, many from without. The walls of the old terrace houses in Sungai Chua, Kajang, and of the ‘new’ Jireh Village in Broga, have heard it all. And
more.
The remarkable and inspirational thing is that the couple, and the kind folks helping them, have stayed the course for an incredible four decades. They continue to fight the good fight, and run the race.
Which reminds me of the enduring bond between an old friend and his dear wife.
I have known Han since we were 9. I did not have the privilege of meeting Aida, though.
He shared a life with her, in the gladdening warmth of summer and the icy depths of winter.
But life is fleeting, like the shadows are nothing.
He lost her to cancer on April 5, five years after their beloved daughter, Alya, succumbed to the dreaded disease.
How does a person deal with such immense sorrow?
Han does this by holding on to his faith, and the many precious memories of a time that is no more.
He frequently writes poignantly about Aida and Alya on Facebook, and I cannot help but feel his heart’s song. I admire his loyalty and love. Here is Han’s post from three days ago, from a song by Kane & Marshmello:
You saw right through my pain,
Kept us patient while I changed,
Never even crossed your mind to walk away,
When I was getting crazy, reckless and wild,
Actin’ like my mama’s devilish child,
It took a heart like yours to find its
place.
Han ends the post with this line: “The one person that never gets tired of my antics & tantrums, Aida Madeni.”
Is it not uplifting to see such familial tenderness in a world filled with just about everything which is the antithesis and devourer of love and hope?
Thank you, Reverend Sinnadurai, Kamala and Han.
This Christmas and beyond, whether or not you believe in God, let’s be an enduring lamp on the stand that “gives light to everyone in the house”.
Let us be fine heralds of spring and summer.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of the New Straits Times