Ahmad Fadhli Shaari's comments were also badly needed both for a grieving mother and a nation healing from old wounds.

I rarely agree with PAS information chief Ahmad Fadhli Shaari, and I even refuse to acknowledge his “YB” title. Yet, I was genuinely moved by his latest remarks about honouring a woman whose husband and son — both military men — died in service nearly a decade apart.
Fadhli’s past statements have been largely political, often divisive, and at times remarks that neither a Muslim nor a true-blue Malaysian could condone.
For instance, recently, he once saw no issue with a rally protesting houses of worship allegedly built illegally, despite the risk of severely straining race and religious ties.
Whether he understood the repercussions or not, the “illegal temple” issue was deeply upsetting. Politicians, temple committees, local authorities, and religious figures allowed the din of agent provocateurs to drown out sensible voices.
As Edmund Burke once said: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
I count my blessings that the Rawang temple demolition attempt did not escalate further, though I fear we are not entirely out of the woods.
That is why Fadhli’s call for the government to provide assistance and official recognition to the family of soldier K Indiran is a welcome respite.
As a Malaysian and a Muslim, I fully support his suggestion to honour the family of these two fallen heroes. It is a response badly needed — not only for a grieving mother and widow, but also for a nation still healing from old wounds.
Reading about Indiran and his mother, S Usha, brought to mind two films.
The first was Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan, which tells of a squad of soldiers sent to bring home James Ryan after his three brothers were killed in action. It was a story of sacrifice, of men who gave their lives to ease a mother’s grief and honour those who fought for their country.
The second is Amaran, an Indian film about a young Christian woman who falls in love with a Hindu man who later becomes a soldier.
In its poignant ending, she attends a ceremony where her husband is posthumously awarded the nation’s highest military honour. The final scene shows her and her daughter at his tomb, weeping in private because she had promised him never to cry in front of others.
I cannot imagine what Usha is enduring, though we must try to put ourselves in her shoes.
That is why I hope our prime minister — and perhaps even our king — heed Fadhli’s suggestion: that we, as a nation, honour Usha and the memory of her husband, C Kayamboo, and son, Indiran.
Perhaps then, we too can begin to heal the wounds of this nation — wounds inflicted by those who thrive on fanning sentiment.
May God, in His mercy and wisdom, bless our country and our people. - FMT
The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of MMKtT.


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