During the strictest of restrictions amid the Covid-19 pandemic, I was often asked how I was getting on and coping with my meals.
As we were not able to dine at restaurants and take-aways had yet to become an almost ubiquitous activity, I resorted to keeping my stove and oven hot and warm.
But many a time, I didn't have to lift a finger for my meals, so to speak, as I got the benevolence of my well-meaning friends and neighbours.
They'd come with plastic tubs of cuisines in which they are good at. I'd get delicious thosai and other yummy fare during Deepavali and other Hindu observances from Mrs Aru next door.
Sometimes, even when there's no festival to talk of, a big bowl of fish or mutton curry would glide over the wall separating our houses!
And a few doors away would often see Puan Badariyah displaying her cooking prowess with Kedahan and Sarawakian dishes during Hari Raya or on other days that take her fancy. And I'd be one of the lucky beneficiaries!
During Chinese New Year and other days, it would be my turn to reciprocate as I believe that reciprocity is one word that should serve as a rule of practice for all one's life.
After all, a Welsh proverb says that "A little among neighbours is worth more than riches in a wilderness".
And why not? Ever since Mrs Aru cultivated different exotic species of bananas, we have been enjoying the fruits of her labour. She'd distribute a few here and there for neighbours to sample the unfamiliar but sweet delights.
There's a Mr Ng, whose jackfruit tree that has finally decided to take over the duties of my now shrivelled fruiting champion and behave as it should be: sprouting juicier fruits. And since he isn't around because of travel restrictions, he has given instructions for his jackfruit to be distributed among neighbours.
One day I sauntered to our "community farm", where neighbours with green fingers had turned a 100-metre empty strip into something useful, which they otherwise couldn't do in their postage-stamp gardens.
Looking for lemongrass as I missed out on the purchase earlier, I bumped into Datin Sharifah, who was surprised to see me.
She told me to stay put as she knew the surroundings better and got me the most succulent twigs of serai for my Hainanese chicken rice.
But I got more than I bargained for as Datin Sharifah nipped into her own compound to give me a bunch of rambutans that had just been plucked from her tree!
There you go, good neighbourliness goes a long way to propagate goodwill in our multiracial society. And these sentiments are real in that we really care for one another in this tiny Wangsa Maju enclave.
No matter what our stations are and were in life, we should learn from a Danish proverb that says no one is rich enough to do without a neighbour.
Here, our genuine feelings for one another do not necessitate the hoisting of the Jalur Gemilang every Merdeka month to display our acceptance of one another as fellow Malaysians (although many of us ensure that our flags flutter proudly). Or to stick on our cars tiny flags to demonstrate we're patriotic.
Or make great rhetorical speeches expounding the virtues of national unity once a year or during political campaigns while we say or do the opposite at other times. In our tiny community, we don't feign our togetherness.
During this Merdeka month, which lasts until Sept 16, to mark Malaysia's formation 58 years ago, we need to end this tokenism of goodwill or false sense of unity. We've to be more genuine and inclusive.
Unity is strength, so says our national coat of arms. We ought not to pay lip service to this important essence. We can achieve more when we're more united.
It's like paddling a canoe. If we get everyone on board to row earnestly, our vessel will reach whatever destination or goal faster.
Leaders, who go on professing to protect segments of people they want to shield for the slightest of reasons, are only doing the country a disservice when they don't employ the full complement of our vast and diverse resources.
Ponder this line by a singer from India, Jubin Nautiyal, in that patriotism is a feeling that grows as you become conscious of your surroundings. Salam Merdeka!
The writer is a former Bernama chief executive officer and editor-in-chief
The views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect those of the New Straits Times
