Almost a year has passed. Last Saturday was brother number 1’s ‘Thevasam.’ The first anniversary prayers, to observe his passing, based on the Indian almanac.

I remember clearly – Tuesday, December 5, 2023. Sister number 3 and I had visited him in his home. As we were about to leave, despite the pain and discomfort he was enduring, in true form, he mouthed and hand signed if we had already eaten. His gesture pretty much summed him up. He was a caring, kind, and loving brother. He meant well and his heart was always in the right place. Always.

I think of him. Especially the times when we were growing up in Alor Setar. To me, he was the archetype of an older brother. He looked out for me when we played with the neighbourhood kids. We did things together. What I remember were cycling, falling over, walking along the river, in a Huckleberry Finn-esque way, going to the timber yard to collect sawdust for my mum. Why sawdust? I’m not entirely sure. I think my mum used the sawdust and tamarind to clean her copper and brass utensils. Even then, brother number 1 was inventive, thought out-of-the-box, and was deft with his hands. He built toys. He repaired things. He was clever in a natural, un-teachable or un-learnable way. He was likeable without trying. And, it was difficult to stay angry with him for too long. He had a ‘rasi’ face, which was how my mum described it.

Naturally, we grew up and developed our own, somewhat individual personalities. To me, brother number 1 was an eternal optimist. He dreamt big. He pursued, and was involved in ventures that were, sometimes, too grand for me to grasp. He had a varied portfolio of business interests. He was the first person I knew who had an ATUR mobile car phone. ATUR was the first mobile telephone system that was launched in Malaysia in 1985. The mobile phone was as big as two or three large bricks. No kidding. It certainly couldn’t fit into a pocket or even a reasonable sized handbag. But it worked despite the crackling interference.

He was an adept driver. Excellent at the wheels. He wasn’t hesitant to overtake and/or take tricky corners. He drove fast but safe. I should know. I travelled with him after each semester break, probably eight in total, whilst studying in UKM in Selangor. He said I slept through most of the journey, which was mainly on trunk roads, long before highways were constructed. When I was awake, I knew it was fast but I also knew I was in competent hands.

Plus, he was knowledgeable under the bonnet. He knew how most cars worked. Afterall, he did study Mechanical Engineering at FIT or the Federal Institute of Technology in KL. He loved fancy cars, and relished test driving them. For me test driving was a chore. The only time I did was when I wanted or had to replace my car. His cars ranged from a Mercedes, Saab, Proton to a Volvo.  No surprise then when nephew number 4 told me recently how much he enjoyed test driving an EV Mercedes, which apparently had super fast acceleration. I didn’t say it. Hmm. He did… like father like son.

Brother number 1 was indisputably our in-house MacGyver. He was resourceful. A very handy handyman. Hand him a problem, he will find a way to make it go away or be less of a problem. He bended, cut, reshaped materials to fit, heighten and strengthen whatever that was an issue. For instance, as my mum got older and shrunk in size, she became too little and too low for the dining table. Cushions could not give her the needed height. So, brother number 1 cut four pieces of cylindrical metal pipes, the circumference slightly wider than the chair legs, and fitted them on like shoes. Voila!

He also doubled up as a tailor. Yes, he did. He knew how to use my mum’s sewing machine, which is now residing in his condo. When my mum became very unwell, it was brother number 1 who hand-stitched her sarongs. He pleated the sarong and elasticised the top of the garment so she could wear it like a ‘pareo.’ Each time he came to look after her, he worked on the sarongs. A time-consuming exercise. Hence, when I bought new sarongs for my mum, I borrowed his design and had them tailored.  

The past year has been tough. Losing him. Losing my mum. Aiyoh! Sometimes, in a split second of not thinking/realising, I’ve wanted to ask him or share with him, just like I do with my mum, something that I had seen or thought of. I miss him. I miss my mum. I miss them both. Aiyoh!