JUNE 21 — Lame jokes, Arsenal, ecosystem, angry, bowling, private thoughts, karaoke, patience, unassuming, gentleman, sheep-herding, women, legacies, country and family.
I've struggled with Nazrin Hassan's death. It's a week today since he passed on. So, rather, then waxing lyrical about the man, which would be easy but impersonal, I put down words I associate with him.
What he debated, how he was, how he was to others, phrases he uttered and the imagined reflection of him for me on a quiet lake by a mountain.
I swear, he'd find it distasteful to be drawn out in a template fashion. A man who fancied the thrashiest music deserves more.
Damn right, he was fabulous.
I read these news reports about him, they make him look two-dimensional. They are very laudatory, but limited.
Everything he achieved, and would have gone on to achieve, pales to the fact most people felt he was a first-class person. How to say that in a report?
It's hard to hate Nazrin, and in this century, it's a massive accomplishment.
Yes, we got along. An achievement I’d have the honour of repeating for the rest of my life.
I’m going, Prabs
There was a time, in the Noughties, he’d tell me about moving to New Zealand. He loved Malaysia, but setbacks were tempting him to uproot himself and go way, way south. Cue, my diatribe on why he has to stay and fight. Till today, I don’t know if he was just bluffing me, getting me all riled up.
Occasionally, he’d be a victim to my vitriol, when forced to ride shotgun in my old Proton Saga in the days before he started driving, because I’d eviscerate every national leader and policy and he had to suffer these pontifications.
I’ve never worked with him, even in our old days in Promuda — that old organisation long gone but the friends made there, kept — but it does not surprise, his success with start-ups.
To be able to suspend prejudice in order to understand gems in the rough, encourage without being patronising, sharing stories effusively about the ambitions of younger people to colleagues, partners and funders, and believing more than fearing, those things were Nazrin.
Searching came naturally to him.
Outrageously, it does appear the industry and technology moulded to match his aspirations. Plus, he never tired from saying ecosystem.
The Emirates
Nazrin took to football fanaticism late, but what he lacked in years, he made up with passion, the sickening kind. For he picked Arsenal, which to this Spurs fan is inexplicable.
It does not end there. It was a package, the Facebook updates of Arsenal matches and predictions of upcoming matches for all the other Premier League teams. I hope the Gooners fan club in Kuala Lumpur inherits the crystal ball he claimed to own.
The seeker
When immersed in a vibrant conversation, where there is mutual respect and cognisance of valid thoughts, he revels. He’d probably get excited that the idea has improved rather than whether the people speaking about it look cool or not.
He’d never force an idea across, but you can sense when he has dug in his heels. He’d patiently listen, but it’s pointless to expect him to acquiesce or to raise his voice by attempting to push his buttons.
There are deep personal thoughts he held, and maybe even contrarian, far more than expected. I sensed his own private battles over ideas and beliefs.
I’ve had my rounds with him, these conversations, and I’ll continue with others, for that’s the best way to continue a legacy.
Home
He always quoted his late mum.
He’d repeat the nuggets of wisdom he received from her. He’d drop his voice and say them. About humility, respect, time and how we are more alike than we would like to admit.
They are not new, but the sincerity with which he carries those word render them new and meaningful every time he says them.
It appears he’s reminding himself as much as he is informing others.
There was a fire in him which always threatened to blow up, and perhaps more than anything his upbringing kept him on course.
I’m so sorry for the loss his family feel today. Some gaping holes are made more terrifying because of the depth those we love brought while they were with us. Would we prefer them otherwise?
His children will live long lives with reminders of how exceptional their father was, and how he remains in the affections of those he called friends.
Last conversation
It had to be in Kepong, and it most definitely had to be about Mahathir Mohamad. We differ strongly on the subject matter. He believes in forgiveness.
It was a fortnight ago, exactly. The symmetries.
He said that Mahathir’s training was different from ours, and as a medical technician he’s more concerned about short term outcomes than what might be hesitations based on abstractions, well abstractions to Mahathir, anyways. He added that we would be far more circumspect than him. Far more thoughtful.
But let nothing said before and after reduce the scope of his love for our country.
Then, he made a joke about my dating life, or lack of one.
I laughed, and then I drove off. This, only last week.
I did not want to lose him to New Zealand, then. Though now, I rather have lost him to New Zealand, better than death.
Maybe that explains why I could not bring myself to go to the funeral.
In my convoluted mind, he is in “New Zealand.”
At least, I'll think of the lame jokes he'd have for the sheep, when I miss him.
Goodbye, Nazrin. Thanks for allowing all kinds of Cheras riffraff in your company.
It was very good.
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
