Inspirare.. my award goes to my Grandpa..

I recently had the privilege of attending an award ceremony and it was arguably the most interesting, emotional, intense and inspiring eye-opener occasion for me. The cynic in me naturally countered the soft, warm and fuzzy feeling in my heart with my head saying it was just the mood of the occasion, the music and an acute lack of sleep being the guilty offenders..

Whatever it was, I had the chance to exchange a word or two with some of the recipients, including one man who stirred something in my memory. I remember leaving the venue utterly moved and thinking of my own Merdeka Award recipient.. my late grandfather.

About 15 years ago, our family mourned the passing of my grandfather from my mother's side, although I cannot ever say that I was particularly "close" to him. My admiration of him stemmed from a kind of fear yet I love him dearly. After some time, the family uncovered some of his priceless treasures that he had kept locked away for decades. To my dismay, some of these eventually ended up in the trash before we got our hands on them!

Of those that did survive, I inherited four books from his priceless library - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poems, Plato's Republic, Sophocle's Oedipus the King and Homer's The Iliad - all in mint condition as if it had just rolled off the press.. He had the books specially commissioned and were leather bound with gold trimmings.. truly spectacular and I treasure these..

Meanwhile, my photographer sister inherited his collection of photographs, slides and other photographic paraphernalia.. Little did I know then how valuable his photographic collection is! As a kid, I remembered thinking about why his films were in the fridge, what the humidifier-thingymajig was for and why he wouldn't let us (or rather me) touch anything.. As my sisters and I rumaged through the dusty old shoe box where his slides eventually ended up in, I realised that the slides contained photographs that were astounding and relevant to the history of my own country.

My grandfather was no average man, this I realised even as a child. Though I never really quite understood the man since I was the anti-establishment rebel with absolutely no bloody cause (still am) I never really made that much of an effort to be utterly honest. I was also slightly intimidated by him. Anyway, years later as we ploughed through what remained of his treasures, I came to realise how significant his contribution really might have been.

And I never really knew the man! What little I know was made up of bits of my own memory and stories from my mother. My curiousity to learn more about this elusive man has since grown. From what little I know, I think he lived his life pretty much under the radar.

A quiet and unassuming man, I also remember him as a strict man - a man who ensured we sat with our backs straight at the dinner table. I recall his house in Bangsar, his massive library and a framed photo of him as a strapping young man donning his hat cocked to the side standing next to his horse. I also remember his massive chest that was always kept under lock and key. Every Eid, we would go over and I would find myself staring at that chest, wondering how to pick that bloody lock and uncover the mystery!

Years later, we found out that the chest had in fact contained his neatly folded uniforms, coat of arms and an array of service medals, to name a few. My grandfather was Australian and an officer in the Army. After serving his time in the ranks, he was eventually posted as an officer in the colony to other places in the empire like Merauke in New Guinea and Borneo.

I learned that over the years, he had played an array of different functions including his role as the district land officer in Sarawak and Terengganu. The man I knew was a quiet, private and contemplative man. He never talked much about his past particularly the years preceeding the 1940s. Neither did he ever talk much about his family.

In the last remaining years he was with us, he paid us a visit while my sisters and I were in exile in England. I remember he came with a long list of people he had wanted to meet. That list included friends, acquaintances and fellow colleagues.. It was as if he knew something for it wasn't long before he left us.
A decade and a half later, a combination of circumstances has somewhat stirred something in me. Earlier in the year, we at PETRONAS were given desk calendars and the visuals were made up of photographs by the late Sultan of Terengganu, Almarhum Sultan Ismail Nasiruddin Shah, who was an avid photographer. Of the twelve that were shortlisted, there was one that caught my mother's eye one evening, oddly enough it was the photograph for the month of November (my birth month!). Though it wasn't such a big photograph, she eyed it rather inquisitively before suddenly dropping her fork and spoon, for she had identified a man in the photograph.. It was indeed our grandfather!

Though my reasons are unabashedly and shamelessly personal, this man inspired me in his own way.. so my award goes to my late grandfather, David "Daud" Wilson.