15/09/2026

TUESDAY | SEPT 15, 2026

11

We have our own Taj Mahal- lah I NDIA has the Taj Mahal. A magnificent monument built out of a husband’s love for his wife, standing through centuries as a card that reminds us who is supposedly more deserving, more authentic, more entitled, more this and more that. The card that turns differences into suspicion and diversity into ammunition. become orang kita . No manifesto required, no political speech and no seminar on national unity; just one red passport. R I N A T E D M A K

somebody push a stalled car. The Sabahan and Sarawakian friends teaching West Malaysians that Malaysia is considerably larger than the Klang Valley. The Malay family sending festive food to their neighbours. The Sikh family opening its doors. The Hindu family lighting its lamps. The Christian family celebrating Christmas. The Muslim family preparing kuih for Hari Raya. The Chinese family filling the house with reunion dinner. Different homes, different traditions – but one country. And yes, Malaysia is imperfect. Of course, it is. We have problems, frustrations, inequality issues and political drama that sometimes makes telenovela look like a children’s cartoon. We should talk about these things, challenge one another and demand better. Patriotism should never mean pretending everything is perfect. But surely loving Malaysia should also mean refusing to destroy the very thing that makes Malaysia worth loving. So on Malaysia Day, perhaps we can put down the dangerous card for a moment. The card that says “them and us”. The card that asks who belongs more. The card that turns identity into a weapon. And perhaps pick up another one instead. The one that simply says: “ Kita semua orang Malaysia.” Because one day, when Malaysians are far from home, I hope that little red passport will continue to do something magical. It will make strangers smile at one another. It will make somebody whisper: “Eh… Malaysian!” And for that tiny moment, thousands of kilometres from home, nobody will care what race the other person is. Nobody will care which language they speak at home. Nobody will care which state they came from. They will simply know: “ Orang kita .” Perhaps that is our Taj Mahal. Not a monument to one love story but a country trying imperfectly, and sometimes, noisily, to become one. And perhaps the greatest monument we can leave behind is not something tourists photograph. It is something our children inherit: a Malaysia where being different never means belonging less. Happy Malaysia Day, sayang . May we continue to argue, laugh, eat, complain, celebrate and occasionally lempang one another – but may we never forget that underneath all the noise, we are still carrying the same story – Malaysia. And that, Makcik thinks, is a love story worth protecting. Azura Abas is the executive editor of theSun. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com picked from our garden, for their young son, Iskandar. My hope is that he grows up with genuine warmth towards people of all races, rather than being poisoned by the divisive rhetoric of politicians more interested in winning elections than bringing Malaysians together. I hope our nation produces more leaders like Tan Sri Ayob Khan. Perhaps then, Malaysia will finally secure a brighter, more unified and truly harmonious tomorrow. Patrick Teh Ipoh

C I

reminder that some forms of love are stubborn enough to outlive time, politics, weather and probably several generations of family WhatsApp arguments. It is love carved in marble. Malaysia, perhaps, may one day have its own Taj Mahal. Not necessarily one made of marble, domes and minarets but perhaps something much more difficult to build: a monument to Malaysians loving Malaysians. A monument to the idea that despite our differences, we belong to one another. Tomorrow, Malaysia celebrates Malaysia Day – Sept 16, the day Malaysia was formed in 1963. And Makcik would like to use this occasion to give some of us a very gentle lempang – very gentle only, okay. Makcik is still wearing her nice blouse. Because lately, some people seem strangely determined to play the dangerous card – the one that says you are not quite Malaysian enough. The

And frankly, our passport is doing quite a good job representing us on the world stage. The latest 2026 Henley Passport Index places Malaysia seventh globally, with Malaysian passport holders enjoying access to 183 destinations without a prior visa. That puts Malaysia among the world’s strongest passports: Seven. Tujuh . Not bad- lah . Our passport can enter places Makcik ’s knees would need three days to recover from reaching. But perhaps the real power of that little red booklet isn’t merely how many borders it can cross; it is what happens when Malaysians carrying it recognise one another beyond those borders. Suddenly, nasi lemak is not merely breakfast – it is home. Someone saying “ lah ” is not merely a linguistic habit – it is home. Hearing “can or not?” thousands of kilometres away suddenly feels like somebody opened the front door. And don’t even get Makcik started on hearing Malaysian English overseas. You could be in London, Tokyo, Dubai, Sydney or somewhere in the middle of nowhere and hear: “Actually ah …” Makcik ’s ears will activate faster than airport Wi-Fi: Malaysian detected. There is something deeply human about this. Distance has a funny way of making us appreciate what we sometimes take for granted. At home, we can quarrel – oh, we are world champions at quarrelling. We can argue about politics, food, football, traffic, education, religion and race. Whether sambal should be this spicy or that spicy. Whether your favourite hawker stall has gone downhill. Whether the neighbour’s durian tree is technically on your side of the fence. We can debate until the cows come home. But perhaps there is a line we should never cross: the point where disagreement becomes dehumanisation. Because Malaysia was never meant to be a country where everyone is identical. Our beauty has always been in the mixture – different languages, different faiths, different histories, different food, different festivals, different family stories and different ways of saying “I love you”. And somehow, all of that became one thing called Malaysia. That is not a weakness; that is the miracle. India has its Taj Mahal – a monument of love between two people. Perhaps Malaysia needs no single monument. Perhaps our Taj Mahal should be the country itself. Built not from marble but from millions of ordinary acts of belonging. The Indian Malaysian auntie saving extra food for the Malay neighbour. The Chinese Malaysian uncle helping

A

K

Aiyo ! Can we not? Because there is something rather beautiful about being Malaysian that becomes especially obvious when you are far away from home. I recently came across an Instagram reel showing that wonderfully peculiar Malaysian phenomenon at airports. You are walking through some international terminal, minding your own business, perhaps wondering whether airport coffee is legally allowed to taste that terrible, when suddenly you spot it. A red Malaysian passport and immediately your brain goes: “Eh! Malaysia!” You don’t know the person. You may never have met them. You may come from completely different backgrounds. But suddenly there is recognition – a tiny smile, a nod. Perhaps eventually the inevitable: “Malaysia- ah ?” And there it is – that little invisible thread. For a few seconds, two strangers

M

B

S

Y

A

A

B

Z

A

U

R

A

“Patriotism should never mean pretending everything is perfect. But surely loving Malaysia should also mean refusing to destroy the very thing that makes Malaysia worth loving.

A Malaysia we can all call home The greatest monument we can leave behind is not something tourists photograph. It is something our children inherit: a Malaysia where being different never means belonging less. – SYED AZAHAR SYED OSMAN/THESUN

and deeply moved to see a dragon dance perform at a Hindu ceremony. This family deeply impressed their neighbours, most of whom are Chinese. My wife was so touched by the beautiful display of cultural harmony that she quickly took a photo to share with our children and relatives. Our politicians could learn from this family what it truly means to embrace openness, respect and harmony. We also have a Malay neighbour just a few doors away. I always set aside some ripe mangoes, freshly

the local community, which consisted of Ibans, Bidayuhs and various other native ethnic groups. Throughout our stay, I never felt the presence of the ugly, divisive politics that constantly fracture the social fabric of Peninsular Malaysia. And recently, a new Hindu family moved into a house, just a stone’s throw from mine, and held an auspicious ceremony to mark the occasion. Many of their friends joined the celebration, and following a prayer ritual, a traditional Chinese dragon dance was performed. I was surprised

LETTERS letters@thesundaily.com

FORMER Deputy Inspector-General of Police Tan Sri Ayob Khan Mydin Pitchay noted that many Chinese police officers sacrificed their lives by infiltrating communist groups to obtain crucial intelligence during the Malayan Emergency. He emphasised the profound need to appreciate and respect the rich contributions of the non-Malay community to our nation’s history. Malaysia is inherently a peaceful,

multiracial country. Unfortunately, narrow-minded politicians constantly use racial and religious cards to stir up sentiments solely to gain political mileage. Even an honest, careless mistake like hanging the Jalur Gemilang upside down is routinely weaponised into an intense racial issue. In 1993, I had a brief professional stint at a hotel in Miri, Sarawak, where my family and I had the beautiful opportunity to live happily alongside